


Not That Saint

by shethenightwolf



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Angst, Character Development, Dirty Talk, Drama & Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Intimacy, Jealousy, Love, Mutual Pining, Older Man/Younger Woman, Plot Twists, Psychological Drama, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 68,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23809432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shethenightwolf/pseuds/shethenightwolf
Summary: Running from her past and bad habits, Phoebe Harris decides to start a new chapter of her life in Los Santos. Little does she know that the new troubles await for her around the corner and one of them is a man, who accidentally saves her life, Michael de Santa.
Relationships: Michael De Santa/Original Character(s), Michael De Santa/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 88
Kudos: 78





	1. Bad Place, Bad Time

**Author's Note:**

> Late to the party, here I am again. I decided to give this story of mine another chance, this time with my female OC, Phoebe. 
> 
> The story takes place not long after the ending C 😊 and _italic_ is for text messages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Important** : I decided to rewrite this story (because I simply did not feel the direction it was going). At first, I planned to correct some details, but as it turned out, it would make more sense if you read it from the start - at least for me, it makes more sense, because many _important_ details were changed. Of course, there is no obligation, I just did not want you, guys, to be confused. This is the reason I post first **nine** chapters again. (I don't know whether I'm doing the right thing or not). I would appreciate if you let me know what you think.
> 
> Thank you,  
> A.

Everyone deserves a second chance, or at least that was what Phoebe Harris thought to herself as decided to leave her old life behind and start a completely new chapter of it in the place she has never thought she would end up in.

Los Santos.

City of dreams or maybe it would be better to call it the city of dreamers.

Phoebe was definitely one of them as she moved there, hoping it would be a good way to start over. What place could be better than this city, where you could get lost in the crowd and no one knew your name? It was a perfect place for her. From the moment she opened the door of her new apartment, she knew it was a good choice to leave everything behind. Even if the apartment itself was rather small, it was hers. It was her place, her four walls and the view she had from there on the city was making it up for all the inconveniences she had to face.

Also, at that moment, when she crossed the threshold of her new flat, she thought that everything would go easy from there. She has been through enough already and eventually, it had to be good. Life could not be the endless road of obstacles, right?

Oh, it was so foolish of her to believe it.

However, for a short time, it was going in the right direction and Phoebe could not complain. She settled in, made her new apartment her new home, got to know some nice people and found herself a decent job in one of the cafes in the centre of Los Santos. Everything was the way she wanted to and the moment she thought it would stay this way, everything changed.

Life always changes in the most unexpected moments, doesn’t it?

One day, almost three months after she had moved to Los Santos, she was walking back home from work. It was late, but she did not mind - she was used to getting back home at night and was not afraid of being alone outside after dark. Besides, Los Santos was never dark. On the contrary, it was always illuminated by the lights; always full of life. Many people were walking on the streets, going back from work, going to the parties or just wandering around. But on that particular day, Phoebe decided to go home different road, the less crowded one, where most of the lights were off. Everything seemed completely normal until she heard the shots behind her back and the sound of racing cars.

It all went quickly from that moment. Seconds later, she was lying on the ground, curling up from pain as one of the bullets went right through her left thigh. She moaned from the pain and watched the blood spreading on her light blue jeans. She cried for help, but the street was empty and no one could hear her screaming. She tried to get up, but she was losing blood too fast and it was too painful to move for her, so she crawled to the nearest wall and leaned her back against it, her breaths shallow as she began searching for her phone in the bag.

When she found it, her vision started getting black and after a short moment, she passed out. The last thing she heard was her phone falling on the ground and the crack as it hit the rough surface that was all covered in the blood.

* * *

Phoebe took a sharp breath as she opened her eyes, confused by the place she was in. Quickly, she realised that she was in the hospital, but she had no clue how she got there or how was it even possible she was still alive. She glanced at her thigh that was all wrapped in bandages and then she noticed her friend, Amy Reed, who was napping in the chair next to her bed. Phoebe took a closer look at her, realising she was wearing the exact same clothes she saw her in yesterday; her long, blonde hair was covering the half of her face as she moved, trying to change her already unnatural body position caused by the lack of space on the chair.

“A-Amy?” Phoebe’s voice cracked as she spoke her friend’s name. “Amy, wake up.”

“Pheebs?” Amy mumbled, blinking a few times, trying to adjust her eyes to the morning light. “You’re alive!” she jumped on the chair, realising it was not a dream and she was not delusional. “You scared the shit out of me! When I got a call from the hospital and I thought I was gonna get a heart attack! How are you feeling? How many times did I tell you not to go alone after dark, huh? What the hell were you thinking?”

“I’m alright, Amy, relax,” Phoebe tried to calm her down, but also understood why Amy was mad at her. She had told her at least a dozen times to call a cab when she was returning home from her afternoon shift, but Phoebe did not listen, thinking her friend was simply paranoid. “You were right, okay? I’m sorry...”

“You’d better be!” she scolded her, “I know this is Los Santos and weird things happen here, but this? What was that supposed to be?”

“Told you,” Phoebe looked at her friend, smiling gently, “if something bad is about to happen, it’s probably gonna happen to me.”

“Oh, I beg you,” Amy protested, “it was not your fault. You were just in a bad place at a bad time."

“I always am in a bad place at a bad time, Amy,” she chuckled and then moaned because when she tried to move, she felt the pain spreading through her left limb. “Fuck...”

“Easy, daredevil,” Amy joked and helped her to sit up, “you have been shot about seven hours ago, don’t strain yourself. The doctors said you will be okay, the wound is not that bad, but you must rest. Do you understand? You. Must. Rest.”

Phoebe nodded reluctantly and sighed, brushing back the strands of brown hair that fell on her pale face. She had never liked hospitals and disliked them more when her father passed away a few years earlier; she was the one to hold his hand as he was slowly dying after another failed operation. No wonder why, even though she did not feel well, she wanted to get out of this place as soon as it was possible or even crawl out of there if she had to.

“How long do I need to stay here?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“The doctor said you should be there for three days minimum,” Amy replied and dared to pat her friend’s arm. “It’s okay, Pheebs. I’ll be visiting you as often as I can, alright? Besides, three days? It’s nothing...”

“Yeah, but in here it seems like an eternity for me,” she groaned and her eyes scanned the room, noticing a beautiful bouquet of flowers on the bedside cabinet. “Wow, they’re pretty,” Phoebe smiled gently and reached out her right hand to touch them, “Mia, you needn’t have to...”

“They’re not from me,” Amy interrupted, giving her friend a questioning look. “The nurse brought them... about an hour ago and when I asked her who sent them, she said there’s a card attached to it and left.”

Phoebe carefully moved the bouquet around and quickly found a small, blue card sticking out from the flowers. She pulled it out of and turned the card around in her hands, realising there was a note on the back of it.

“ _I hope your leg doesn’t hurt much_ ,” she began reading quietly, “ _in case you’re wondering who sent you those flowers, they’re from the guy who found you yesterday and called the ambulance. I hope they made you smile, even just a little. Get well, M_.”

“Well, that’s unexpected,” Amy pointed the obvious thing. “Who’s M?”

“Don’t you say,” Phoebe chuckled and looked carefully at the note, “and I have no idea who he is. Oh, look, there’s a phone number... You think I should text him?”

“You can even call him if you want,” the other girl laughed. “Come on, don’t ask me a question like this. Of course, you should text him! He left his number for a reason.”

“Alright,” Phoebe pondered. “I’ll think about it.”

“What’s there to think about?”

“I don’t know...” she replied. “I guess, I don’t want to bother him. Don’t look at me like that...”

“So you need a little push? Give me that,” Amy ordered and snatched the note from Phoebe’s hands. Then she reached out for her friend’s phone and without asking for permission, she picked his number and started typing a new message to him. “ _Thank you for the flowers, M. You needn’t have to, but yes, they made me smile. A little_ ,” she was saying and moved away from Phoebe as she tried to get her phone back, cursing at Amy under her breath. “Sent.”

“No, no, no,” Phoebe muttered as Amy threw her phone back at her, “for god’s sake, Amy!”

“Listen, I need to go to work,” her friend stated suddenly, grabbing her denim jacket and bag, “but you will thank me later, Pheebs. Have some courage.”

And with the last words spoken, she left, leaving angry Phoebe by herself. She cursed under her breath once again and moved her leg rapidly, quickly regretting this choice of expressing her anger. She unlocked her phone and checked on her sent messages folder, realising Amy was not joking.

She sent that goddamn message to him.  
“Damn,” Phoebe grumbled, lying down slowly, “damn you, Amy.”

To her surprise, her phone vibrated after a short moment, letting her know she received a new message:

_You’re welcome. I’m glad I could make you smile._

Phoebe smiled at the screen, but then she realised that she had not thanked him for the most important thing. She quickly tapped ‘reply’ and started typing:

_How can I thank you for saving my life, too?_

A few seconds passed and she received another reply.

_Text me when you’ll get proper rest and your leg won’t hurt this much. I might take you out for a coffee then._

She puffed, realising whoever this man was, he was surely self-confident. She pondered for a while thinking of a good response.

_And what makes you think I would agree for your proposition?_

Again, it was not even a minute of waiting for another reply.

_You asked me how you can thank me. Coffee sounds nice, don’t you think?_

Phoebe rolled up her eyes and shook her head slowly thinking what exactly was she doing. It was not in her style to text with a man he has never seen in her life, yet when he replied on a text that Amy sent to him, he also got her intrigued.

Little did she know, what she was getting herself into when her slim fingers texted ‘ It does. If that’s what it takes to thank you for saving my life, count me in.’ and sent it before she would change her mind. In order to escape trouble, she was getting herself into another one, but at that moment, she did not know that nor cared about that. All she could think of was two things: to get out of the hospital quickly and what type of coffee he likes.


	2. Café Redemption

In the end, it took Phoebe a week to get back on her feet. One long week she had to spend in the hospital and when she eventually got out of there, she was probably the happiest person in whole Los Santos. No more of those goddamn white walls and sterile rooms, she thought to herself as she left the building, quickly realising the day was unusually beautiful or she simply missed the fresh air and the feeling of sun rays on her face.

Soon, she was on her way home, to the small apartment in Hawick. She entered her place and tossed her bag on the wooden floor in the corridor.

“Home sweet home,” she murmured to herself, closing the door behind her.

Then, she directed her steps to the bedroom that was right next to the bathroom, in front of the kitchen. She did not have much space in her apartment, but she was not complaining. She loved how cosy it was and also, she did not need a bigger place just for herself.

She laid down on her king-size bed that was taking almost all space of her bedroom and placed her phone on the nightstand. She closed her eyes and finally let herself rest in a place where she was feeling completely safe.

However, her dreams were not tranquil; as soon as she fell asleep the memories of the evening when she got shot started coming back. The most terrifying was how real they felt - like she was living through this memory over and over again. She remembered every detail of that night till the moment she felt a sharp pain in her leg, which made it impossible for her to remember what happened next. All she could recall was the pain; the enormous one that grew with every passing second and the bloodstain on her jeans that kept getting larger.

She was sure that she was all alone there, so how was it possible someone called the ambulance for her? How did he find her there? Whoever helped her, what was he doing there in the first place?

Phoebe woke up all sweaty, her breath uneven and she reached out to her left thigh, making sure it was just a dream; a nightmare, but still just a dream. The bandage was in its place and she did not feel much pain anymore. It was all over, it was just her head playing with her.

As she was lying on her bed, trying her best to can down, her phone vibrated on the nightstand. She reached out for it and realised she got a text.

“ _Hey, I hope you didn’t forget about our coffee? M._ "

She smirked at the screen and began typing.

“Of course not. Actually, I was wondering whether you have some time today?”

Bold of you, Phoebe. Was it not in his gesture to suggest the meeting? Not even a minute later, she got a reply.

" _Choose place and time._ ”

Phoebe took a second to think, wondering what would be the best place to meet with someone she had never seen in her life before. After a while, she decided the cafe she was working in was the best possible option - not only she knew people there, but also that place was famous for selling the best coffee in Los Santos. What could go wrong with that choice?

“ _5 pm, Café Redemption. It’s at the corner of Eastbourne and Carcer Way. See you there._ ”

She typed and sent. Then she got off her bed and looked in the mirror on her closet. What was she supposed to wear? Was there any dress code for the first meeting with someone who saved your life? As she was picking up her outfit, her thoughts wandered to the mysterious stranger she was about to meet. How old is he? What does he look like? Why did he decide to help her? Many questions were going through her mind and she could not wait till she eventually sees him in a flash. During her stay at the hospital, she was trying to imagine himself, using what she already knew about him - which, unfortunately, was not much. All she knew was that he was a man, pretty self-confident and cocky, but at the same time polite and charming. The flowers he sent her were beautiful and it was a nice gesture that definitely made the time she spent there a little bit better.

After thirty minutes of looking at her clothes, Phoebe picked a simple white v-neck t-shirt and blue jeans. Classy solutions are the best solutions, she thought to herself, sitting down and putting on her white sneakers in the corridor. She grabbed her small, black bag and hung it over her arm then made a messy ponytail out of her dark brown mid-length hair. To make her look complete, she put the brown aviators on the top of her head and left the apartment, realising it she wouldn’t hurry, she would definitely be late.

* * *

About an hour later, Phoebe managed to get to Coffee Redemption five minutes before time, gasping for air as, after a week of lying in bed, even a quick walk was an effort for her. She fixed her hair and sat by one of the tables outside of the cafe and waited for a stranger.

She looked around, realising many people were walking on the street, but apparently, none of them was the person she was waiting for. So, she kept waiting, her fingers tapping the tabletop nervously and her eyes were constantly peeking at the phone she was holding in her left hand.

_What if he would not come? What if he changed his mind and decided he did not want to meet her?_

She began overthinking this whole situation and even though she knew it was irrational, she could not stop, getting more and more anxious with every passing second.

“Relax,” she said to herself quietly and sighed, “there’s no reason he wouldn’t come...” “Exactly,” a deep man’s voice spoke behind her back, “I have no reason to ditch you.”

Phoebe turned around rapidly to look at the stranger and when she did, she saw a tall, well-built man, probably in his forties, black hair, dressed up in a burgundy polo shirt, dark trousers and shoes. He passed her by and she smelled his musk cologne; he smiled at her lightly, noticing she was eyeing him from the top to bottom and did the same, looking carefully at the younger woman.

“Good to see you’re feeling better,” he marked, holding out his hand. “I’m Michael. Michael de Santa,” he introduced himself.

“Phoebe Harris,” she said, shaking his hand. “Pleasure to finally meet you. A man who saved my life.”

He sent her another smile, a bright one, and joined her at the table. For a moment they were sitting in awkward silence and she used this moment to get a closer look on him. The first thing that brought her attention was his eyes, blue as the ocean and Phoebe could swear, she had never seen such specific eye colour before. Then, there was his charming smile and the way he bit his bottom lip as she caught him staring at her for (probably) way too long. He was also older than her; she could not tell exactly how old he was, but it did not really matter for her. When she saw him, she immediately felt this weird sting in her heart, but she brushed off this feeling quickly, finding it also inadequate to the whole situation, considering what she saw next.

The wedding ring on his finger.

He was married, but somehow, Phoebe was not surprised. It would be weird if a man like him did not have a wife.

“How’s your leg?” Michael asked out of sudden. „You look much better since the last time I saw you.”

Was this a compliment or statement of a fact? Phoebe thought, but soon she realised she had not time to think about it now.

“It’s fine,” she replied, sending him a shy smile. “Thanks for asking.”

“You’re very welcome,” he replied. “So, what’s it gonna be? Coffee, tea or maybe you changed your mind and want a drink?”

“Coffee,” Phoebe responded, “I’m so stuffed with painkillers, alcohol would not be the wisest idea today.”

“Black or white?”

“Whatever you choose,” she told him and dared to wink at him playfully.

Michael seemed to like what just she did and chuckled in response. “Alright, gorgeous. I’m gonna be right back.”

Phoebe watched him getting up and walking inside to get them coffees. She took a deep breath, knowing she was stressing way too much over a casual meeting; there was no need to panic. All she needed to do was to act natural and be the best possible version of herself.

Her phone vibrated when she received a new message. This one was from Amy.

“ _How is it going? How is this mysterious man who saved you from bleeding out? Details, please._ ”

Of course, Amy could not wait until her friend would come home; for a second Phoebe wondered why she even texted her friend in the first place, knowing she would end up getting bombarded by texts until she eventually would reply.

“ _It’s fine._ ”

Phoebe typed and sent.

“ _Just fine?_ ”

The answer was instant.

“ _Alright, more than fine. :)_ ”

She managed to send her reply to Amy when Michael came back, holding two cups of coffee in his hands. He placed one in front of Phoebe and the second one he was still holding as he sat down on the metal chair.

“Was that your boyfriend?” he asked as she put her phone down on the table. “I hope he ain’t mad about you this whole thing.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Phoebe smirked, moving the cup closer to her. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Michael clearly did not expect such an answer from her.

“What about your wife?” she decided it was the perfect moment to ask about the wedding ring on his finger. “Isn’t she jealous you’re saving and meeting with another woman?”

He remained silent, thinking of an answer. “The wedding ring, huh? You’re perceptive, but no, she isn’t. At least she shouldn’t be because she was the one who wanted me to sign the divorce papers.”

This time it was Phoebe who was caught off guard, realising she had misjudged him too soon. However, there was still a matter that was bothering her. “Then why are you still wearing it?” she pointed at his left hand.

“I guess it’s a habit,” he admitted and took a sip of his coffee. “I think I’m still waiting for a good moment to take it off.”

“I see,” she said and grunted. “So, changing the subject, I have to ask you something.” “Shoot.”  
“What were you doing back there? I mean, the night someone shot me...”

“I was driving by when I saw what happened,” he had replied before she finished. “How could I not help you? I mean, it’s kinda natural thing to do, right? I see someone who needs help, so I help them. Well, it might not be obvious when you look at me, but I’m really trying to be a good man.”

“Do you always leave flowers for that person?” Phoebe smirked. “I’m just curious.”

“No,” he shook his head and a short, deep laugh escaped his mouth. “You’re the first woman I’ve ever left flowers for.”

“The first? What about your ex-wife?”  
“She doesn’t really like flowers,” he replied shortly. “I... I hope you do like them, though.” “Yeah, I do,” she told him and he smiled at her warmly.

Phoebe returned the smile and looked down, trying to hide her pink cheeks, but still, she felt his sight on her. Michael, on the other hand, could not help but look at her, finding it pretty adorable she blushed.

“The flowers you left for me were beautiful,” she admitted after a moment, her eyes coming back to him. “Thank you, again, Michael.”

He felt this fuzzy feeling in his chest when she spoke his name, but he quickly brushed it off, trying to focus on what she was saying next: “Would it be extremely weird if I asked you to tell me more about yourself?”

“Not at all.” He shook his head. “I was just about to ask you to do the same.”

“Well, I’m not someone particularly interesting,” Phoebe began, deciding that in this case, she would tell him about herself first. “I moved here not so long ago, about three months ago?” she pondered. “I was running from troubles, my past and I thought I left them all behind me, but hey, from the frying pan to the fire, I ended up with a hole in my thigh.”

“It could happen to anyone here. Los Santos... You’ll have to get used to it,” Michael responded.

“Get used to getting shot? Pff,” she puffed, “and I thought Sandy Shores was crappy.”

“It ain’t much better here,” he told her, “the same crap, but more civilized.”

They both laughed at his remark and out of sudden, the atmosphere between them became less tense. Michael changed his position to the more comfortable one while Phoebe took another sip of her coffee. It seemed as if they began to feel good in each other’s presence, so Michael decided to ask her another question.

“So, you come from Sandy Shores?” he asked. “You surely don’t look as if you come from there.”

“Yeah, appearances are deceptive” she replied, smiling lightly, “but I guess it’s safe to say I do.” She shrugged. “What about you? How long have you been living in Los Santos?”

“Um, almost ten years,” he responded after a moment of thinking.

“It can’t be this bad here then,” she stated. “If it was, you wouldn’t have lasted ten years here.”

“This city is a fucking hell sometimes,” Michael slowly shook his head then chuckled, “but mostly, it’s not that bad. You will soon get used to endless traffics, gangsters, shootings...”

“Yeah, stop right there,” Phoebe told him. “I’d like to think I’ve already run out of bad luck, okay?”

“Okay, okay” he agreed. “No more talking about bad things.”

They found themselves sitting in silence again, exchanging glances from time to time and smiling shyly while they caught each other staring. Even though they were not talking for a while, the silence was not that awkward as in the beginning or at least, it was not overwhelming anymore.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Michael asked, breaking the silence again.

“Actually, I’m working here,” she nodded towards the doors of Café Redemption. “Told you I’m no one interesting.”

“Well, you’re pretty interesting for me,” he admitted. “Why here?”

“I don’t know, to be honest,” she explained. “I don’t find making coffee really exciting, but when I moved here I needed money. Here, it’s not that bad and a wage is fine too. You know, I could also become a stripper as my friend, but I don’t really feel this need to get undressed in front of random men.”

“Fair enough.”

“What about you?”

“Me? It’s complicated,” he grunted. “The last time I checked I was an aspiring movie producer, but it didn’t go as well as I planned.”

“A movie producer?” Phoebe repeated. “It sounds great. I love watching movies, especially old ones.”

“You do?” Michael asked and his eyes widened in curiosity. “Yeah,” she nodded. “Who doesn’t?”

He chuckled in response, pleased by the answer she had given him. “But you know what? The film industry is shit. This whole Vinewood thing? It consumes you. It consumes you to the point when you don’t know who you’re anymore and began to question why you started doing it in the first place.”

“Well, no one said being a movie producer is easy,” Phoebe pointed and her phone beeped. She glanced at it quickly, realising Amy texted her again, but instead of reading what she wrote, she grabbed her phone and turned it down. “Sorry...”

“You sure it’s nothing important?” Michael asked and his phone began to ring. He laughed, putting it out the pocket of his trousers, but his face went serious the moment he saw who was calling. He murmured ‘excuse me’ to Phoebe and then answered the phone. “Hey, sugar... What’s going on? What? Where are you?”

Phoebe looked at him confused, but he calmed her down with a gesture of his hand, showing he got everything under control.

“Stay where you’re, okay? I’m on my way,” he said then hang up.

“Was that your girlfriend?” Phoebe could not help, but ask a question similar to the one Michael had asked her earlier.

“Worse,” he replied, “it’s my daughter.” He put his phone back to his pocket. “And so we’re clear, I don’t have a girlfriend,” he remarked, winking at her teasingly. “Sadly, I have to leave you, because she got herself into trouble again and now the daddy’s needed.”

“Sure,” she said in return, “go and save your little girl.”

“Ah, she ain’t that little anymore,” he laughed and got off the chair. “Listen, I... It was great to meet you and I won’t hide that I’d love to see you again,” his left hand wandered to his neck and he brushed the back of it, looking down and searching for the right words. “I-um... There’s a party at my place tomorrow, you know, there will be some famous people and good stuff. If you’d like to come that would be great. You can also bring a friend of yours with you.”

“I’ll think about it,” she replied in an evasive way, even though she would love to say sure. “Great,” he grinned and nodded at her, “I’ll text you the address.”  
Phoebe had returned the smile and watched him leave before she checked on her phone. Amy texted her four times within two minutes and it seemed urgent, so immediately, Phoebe started reading what she wrote in the messages.

“ _Scott dumped me._ ”

Alright, the first one was short.

“ _How could he do that? I was considering quitting my job in Vanilla Unicorn for him. What a douche. I hate him._ ”

The second one was a little bit longer and gave her a clue what her friend was going through.

“ _I know you’re on a date, but HE dumped ME. Can you imagine that? This prick wasn’t worth a minute of my time._ ”

Phoebe stood up and read the latest text Amy sent to her.

“ _I need you, Pheebs. I need you before I will break down completely._ ”

Phoebe rolled up her eyes and shook her head slowly, already having an ideal solution for her friend - a party Michael invited her to. She just had to convince her to come with her, which did not seem problematic, considering Amy loved partying (and hopefully she would find this idea the best way to forget about the guy who just broke her heart). She texted back “I’m on my way” and with a positive mindset, she headed home, already could not wait for tomorrow’s night.


	3. Rockford Hills

“Phoebe,” Amy said as she walked outside of the bathroom the next day, dressed in one of her friend’s dresses. “How do I look?” She turned around to show her friend the whole look. The dress she was wearing was a little bit loose but beautiful as it shone in the late afternoon light that came through the big window of Phoebe’s bedroom.

“Like a million dollar girl,” Phoebe replied, laying on her bed. “This dress is so shiny, I love it.”

“Me too,” her friend agreed and put on her heels. “It’s perfect,” she stated and looked into the mirror. “What about you? What are you gonna wear since I stole the best dress of yours?”

“Well, I think I’ll go with this short simple black dress of mine, the one without straps. Remember it?”

“I think so,” Amy replied, giving her friend a look. “Come on, sleeping beauty, we don’t have that much time before the party. Get dressed already.”

“Yes, mom,” Phoebe joked and got off the bed reluctantly. She approached her closet and began searching for a dress inside of it, finding it after a moment. “I got it.”

She walked out of her bedroom and got her clothes changed in the bathroom quickly, then she began applying some makeup on her face. She put some mascara on her natural long lashes and some powder on her flawless ivory skin; she has never bothered with any skin problems, so she never had a need to put much cosmetics on her face. The final touch was straightening her frizzy hair, so her look was way more elegant and classy.

“Should I paint my lips red?” Phoebe stuck her head out of the bathroom.

“Depends,” the other girl chuckled, brushing her long blonde hair. “Do you want to drive him mad?”

“Hmm, I see,” Phoebe replied shortly, understanding the allusion hidden behind Amy’s question and then began applying the red rouge on her lips. “Amy? I know you told me you don’t want to talk about Scott or anything related to him, but... But how are you doing?”

“Considering you’re taking me with you to a party, I’d say great,” she replied from the other room. “Just think how many celebrities will be there, I’m sure I’ll find someone to get my mind off that prick.”

“If you want to talk...”

“I don’t, Pheebs,” Amy interrupted her, “I had a moment of weakness when I texted you yesterday, but I’m alright now,” she paused. “At least, I think I am and I will definitely be when I meet another hot guy.”

Phoebe huffed and shook her head slowly, making a final touch on her lips. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror and when she decided she was ready to go, she left the bathroom, joining Amy back in the bedroom.

“You look hot,” Amy noted as Phoebe grabbed a phone from her bed and put it inside the black purse. “We are both looking great.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I hope someone notices it.

“I’m sure someone will,” Amy winked at her and patted her arm as she walked to her. “If he won’t, he’s a fool.”

Phoebe chuckled in response, trying not to show her friend she was getting nervous. It’s just a casual party, no big deal, she thought to herself as they walked out of her apartment. The sun has just begun setting down and enlighten the city with warm orange colours, making the cityscape even prettier. Phoebe took a quick look at it and then ran down the stairs, carefully, as the heels she was wearing were not the most comfortable shoes she has ever worn and then, she joined her friend in the cab.

* * *

They arrived at Rockford Hills after ten minutes and to their surprise, the party that Michael was throwing out was already on. They thought that they would be one of the firsts to arrive, but clearly, they must have mistaken the hours and probably the place because as it turned out, it was a mansion, not an average house that Phoebe thought an aspiring movie producer would live in.

“Why didn’t you tell me he lives in a goddamn mansion?” Amy asked as you entered on his estate. “It’s so huge,” she kept talking, “he even got a goddamn tennis court in the back!”

Phoebe did not reply, looking around and searching for Michael in the groups of people she was passing by. Somehow, she could not wait until she would see him again, this time in a completely different situation, but she did not want to admit this fact, even to herself. The girls walked inside the mansion and the music was playing so loud, they could barely hear their thoughts. The place was crowded, but as they moved forward there were fewer people and eventually, they reached the kitchen.

What a beautiful house, Phoebe thought to herself, watching the interiors that were all made in Spanish Renaissance style. Why would anyone throw a party in such a beautiful house? she pondered, but before she could think more about it, Amy nudged her, bringing her attention.

“What?” Phoebe asked, confused.

“I think I see your man,” she told her. “I’m not sure whether you want to see that, though,” she stated and pointed her head in his direction.

Phoebe turned her head and saw Michael sitting on the white leathered couch with some random girl on his lap. They were talking about something and she laughed at every word he said to her. Phoebe froze and watched this scene, clenching her fists and digging her nails into inner sides of her hands. For a second she pondered why was she even mad and quickly realised that apparently, she was hoping for too much, assuming she was the only girl she was seeing. Was it another habit of him to save random girls and take them out after?

“Phoebe?” Amy’s voice rang in her ears. “What was his name again?”

“De Santa,” Phoebe replied automatically without moving her sight away from him. “Michael de Santa.”

“Oh, I knew I’ve heard this name before, but I wasn’t sure...” she said to Phoebe, placing a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I think I've seen him in Vanilla Unicorn a few times before.”

“Seriously?" The girl hissed and brushed Amy’s hand off her shoulder. "You forgot to mention it earlier."

“I’m just saying...” Amy wanted to explain what she meant, but Phoebe was not listening to her anymore. “Phoebe!”

However, Phoebe was not listening to Amy anymore. She marched away, getting through the crowd and grabbing a glass of whiskey on her way outside. She used the back doors to leave and leaned her back against the wall right next to it. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. I’m a fool , she thought to herself, downing at once all that was in the glass. The whiskey was strong, so she grimaced at the taste of it. It also seemed to ease her anger, so she grabbed another one from the waiter who has just passed her by with a tray of drinks.

“Smile for the camera!” She heard someone shouting at her a moment later. She raised her eyes to look at the young man with a big camera in his hand; his brown bangs were sticking out from under his black cap and Phoebe quickly found out how insistent he was. “I never get enough photos of pretty girls like you. Are you a new celeb here in LS? I doubt I’ve seen you before,” he kept talking. “I’m sure I would remember those pretty dark eyes...”

“Fuck off, paparazzo,” Phoebe muttered and downed another glass of whiskey. “I’m here as a guest, not anyone famous and I’m not in the mood for dealing with you.”

“I can see that,” he nodded at the empty glass. “What’s your name? I’m Beverly.” “Phoebe,” the girl replied, looking out for the next drink.  
“Phoebe,” he repeated. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing, I... The night turned out shitty for me before it even started,” she admitted and exchanged her empty glass for a full one, sending waiter another grateful smile. “Why do you even ask? I’m not anyone worth your attention, so get lost or something.”

“I’ve been watching you for five minutes and you already downed three drinks,” he pointed. “You’re gonna be wasted in an hour or less if you keep this pace,” he paused, watching his companion already having another drink. “Are you here with someone...”

“My friend,” she had replied before he could finish his question. "She’s somewhere inside, probably banging with the first guy she saw.”

“Oh-uh, you really don’t have the best mood,” Beverly stated then put his camera back to the bag. "Listen, I’m gonna get you another drink, alright? Just... Just don’t go anywhere.”

“Sure,” she shrugged and watched her newly met friend disappearing inside the mansion. “I’ve got nowhere to go, anyway.”

While Phoebe was waiting for Beverly's return, she could not stop thinking of Michael and that girl who was sitting on his laps back then. This thought infuriated her, even though she knew that she had no actual reason to be mad at him. She just met him. It was her fault she had her hopes set too high and thought she was special to him just because he had saved her life. It was pathetic of her to believe a guy like him did not have any other girl apart from her and what was worse, at first, she was naive enough to think it was true. Flowers, coffee, texts... It all fooled her, but not as much as she fooled herself, thinking this time anything would be different.

“I’m back,” Beverly said and handed her a glass of whiskey. "You can tell me what exactly happened. It will be easier for you this way.”

“Thanks,” Phoebe smiled gently at him and took a sip of her drink. “Long story short, I came here for someone who apparently doesn’t give a shit about me,” she shrugged and shook her head

slowly. “God, I’m an idiot...”

“You’re not an idiot,” her companion spoke and his words sounded as if he meant them, “Hey, cheer up. The night is still young and it can be fun.”

“You think so?” she asked then peered over her arm, so she could see what was going on inside. To her surprise, Michael was no longer sitting on the couch and she could not find him anywhere in the room. “Anyway, how’s work?” Phoebe nodded at Beverly’s bag. “Any good pics?”

“You bet,” the man laughed and raised his glass. "Well, I won’t take much more of your time. A quick toast and I gotta run. To the good night,” he stated. They clicked their glasses and downed their drinks. She waved him goodbye, feeling the alcohol spreading in her system; suddenly it was hard for her to feel anger as it was replaced by some weird, but still pleasant feeling. The alcohol was working, making her unable to feel anything she did not want to.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Phoebe heard a familiar voice coming from behind her then felt a touch of big man’s hands being placed on her waist. “You look stunning in that dress.”

“And you’re drunk, Michael,” she told him, but did not stop him from touching her. “Where’s that girl of yours?” she asked, tilting her head back until she leaned it against his shoulder.

“What girl?” he seemed surprised.

“The one that was sitting on your lap, laughing at everything you said and looking at you as if she couldn’t wait for you to finally fuck her,” Phoebe explained. “Well, at least it looked like she couldn't.”

“Wait, it wasn’t what it looked like...” “Maybe, but I don't want to hear your excuse."

“Phoebe...” Michael said when she brushed his hands off her and faced him. “It’s not what you think it is, okay?” He was watching her dark eyes staring at him and at that moment, he could not focus on anything else, but how his urge to kiss this red lips of hers.

“Yeah, men always say so,” she snorted. “It’s not what you think it is, of course, because women are... b-blind,” she stammered and out of sudden, she felt dizzy.

She wanted to walk away from him, but the world around her started spinning and if it was not for Michael she would definitely collapse, feeling her legs trembling uncontrollably under her weight. Then, she felt tired and her vision was slowly becoming blurred.

“Hey, hey, Phoebe,” Michael said, holding her slim body in his arms. “Phoebe?” he tried to bring her attention to him, but she was literally slipping out of his hands. “What were you drinking?”

“W-whiskey,” she mumbled. “S-something is wrong, M-Mike...”

“Phoebe,” he seemed to sober up within seconds. “Fuck, Phoebe, don’t fall asleep... Didn’t you come here with a friend? Where’s she?”

“A-Amy? Probably with some dude,” Phoebe replied, using all her strength to focus, “I don’t want... I don’t want to see her, I just want... I just want to sleep.”

“Fuck,” Michael hissed when she closed her eyes and it was harder for him to keep her standing. Not waiting long, he lifted her then carried to the only place he could think of - his bedroom

upstairs. As he walked with her in his arms, no one seemed to care; everyone was already too drunk or drugged to care what was going on around them.

It was quieter upstairs and once he reached his bedroom, he carefully placed her on his bed. Her black dress has rolled up sightly, showing off her bandaged left thigh. Michael had been staring at her for a while when he sat next to her, at the edge of the bed. She is beautiful, he thought to himself, caressing her forearm with his fingertips. He took off her heels and put aside her purse, hearing the sound of vibrating phone inside of it. Even though he knew he should not have done it, he pulled it out and saw Phoebe’s friend calling her. When she stopped, a bunch of notifications popped on the screen and he read the messages from her.

“ _I’m sorry, alright? I should've told you about Michael earlier._ "

“ _Pheebs, where are you? I’m leaving with Steven. Hope you’re having fun too._ ”

“ _Let me know you’re okay. You don’t have to forgive me, just let me know you’re fine._ ”

“ _Phoebe_?”

Michael puffed and unlocked Phoebe’s phone just to reply “I’m okay. Don't worry.” then put it on the nightstand as the girl groaned and turned to the side. Everything started to come together at that moment after he read the messages from her friend, who turned out to be the reason why Phoebe was so angry at him and did not even come and say ‘hi’ when she and her friend arrived at the party. This was why she was drinking this much, but who the hell drugged her? Michael pondered. She was lying unconscious beside him with the strands of hair all over her face; he brushed them away gently, tucking them behind her ear.

He lifted her gently and pulled the quilt from under her, covering her with it once he laid her down again. He looked at her once more, wondering what exactly was he doing. It was not like him to care about anyone, especially a girl he barely knew, but she was... different. It might have been the most cliche explanation for his actions, but there was something about her he could not explain but it made him feel all those things he should not have felt and even though he knew it was not rational, he did not want all these feelings to disappear.

It was good to feel something else than anger, fury or disappointment.

So, after staring at her for a while, he stood up and left the room, quietly closing the doors behind him. Next, he walked downstairs to announce the party was over.

* * *

Phoebe woke up in the night, feeling a throbbing pain in her head. She did not know where she was; she looked around the room, realising she was not alone. She turned her head to the right and, in the weak light of bedside lamp, she saw Michael sleeping next to her, but he kept his distance and was fully clothed. She began wondering was it even comfortable for him to sleep in a white shirt and dark blue suit trousers, but then the more important question came to her head: what happened to her?

She tried to focus and recall the last memory she had. She remembered how mean she had been to Michael before everything became blurry and it was hard for her to stand without his help... Then, nothing. Blank space as if someone erased this piece of her memory. She was lying down for a while, staring at the ceiling and thinking what was the reason she felt this way and out of sudden, she knew.

The drink from Beverly.

After she had drunk it, everything went down. She should have known better and not take anything from the guy she just met, but at that moment, she simply wanted to get wasted and forget about Michael. He was just a stranger who had saved her life before he even got to know her. He cared. When he helped her for the first time, he did not want anything in return or at least that was what Phoebe was telling herself. Maybe that was the reason why it was so easy for her to feel affection to the guy who was peacefully sleeping by her right side?

She turned to the side and gently touched his arm, stroking it and feeling the soft material of his shirt. He purred quietly and the corner of his mouth moved, forming a smirk on his face. At that moment she knew he was not sleeping at all and withdrew her hand, thinking she crossed the line and should not have touched him at all.

“It’s fine,” Michael murmured, but his eyes were still closed.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have--"

“No need to apologize,” he said and opened up his eyes slightly. “How are you?”

“My head is killing me, but beside it, I think I’m okay,” Phoebe replied quietly. “What happened? I... How...”

"My guess is someone drugged your drink,” he explained. “I thought it would better if you had someone to look after you since your friend basically ditched you,” he added.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Don’t mention it,” he smiled gently at her. “Try to get some more sleep, alright?"

“What about you?” Phoebe asked in a soft tone.

“What about me?" Michael smirked. “I don't sleep much, anyway.”

“Why? What is keeping you awake?"

“It would be better to ask what isn’t."

“So what’s on your mind now?” she specified then turned onto her back and propped on her elbows.

“You,” he said, watching her reaction carefully.

"Me?" she questioned and could not hold back a smile.

"Yes. Though I was hoping this night would end up differently." He smirked and Phoebe's cheeks reddened. "I'll go and sleep on the couch,” he added and was about to get up when he felt her hand on his.

“There’s no need for you to sleep on the couch,” she blurted. “I mean... I feel safe when you're near me.”

He could not say no to her. He did not want to say no, so he obediently laid down next to her again. There was a moment of silence between them, only interrupted by the sounds of their heavy breaths. Michael’s right hand wandered to the collar of his shirt and unbuttoned the first two buttons while his left hand was still resting along his body.

Phoebe could feel the throbbing pain spreading in her head and maybe that was the reason she was

not thinking clearly when her right hand instinctively reached out for Michael’s left then squeezed it gently, letting the tips of her fingers brush the inner side of it.

Michael was surprised with a new sensation she was providing him with. It had been a while since anyone held his hand. He smirked under his breath and tangled his fingers with hers, softly brushing his thumb against her forefinger.

None of them said another word and soon they both fell asleep, holding each other’s hands.


	4. What Happens In The Dark Comes Out In The Light

The morning light came through the window and enlightened Michael’s bedroom, making him open his eyes reluctantly. He blinked owlishly as it was still early and he did not want to wake up, not yet at least, hearing Phoebe’s breathing quietly by his side and feeling the warmth of her body nestled up against his. He knew she did not do it on purpose, but still enjoyed this moment; the moment he could share with her, even though if it was not exactly as he had planned.

He invited her over to his party because he wanted to spend some alone time with her; there was no point in hiding the obvious. She must have known what he was planning, otherwise, she would not have dressed like this. Provocative, to say at least. Her short black dress was basically screaming 'rip me off ’ or maybe it was only Michael’s imagination playing tricks on him. Either way, he found Phoebe truly stunning and the fact she seemed to like him encouraged him to take the next step. Taking this step also meant making an effort, which was not in his style, but so was not being in the interest of such a beautiful girl. Maybe he still had his chance or at least, that what was he wanted to believe in.

For a long time, he used to believe any other woman except Amanda would not lay her eyes on him. His ex-wife made him believe that the way he was living was enough for any other woman to walk away from him. She also claimed that she was the only one that could stand it, but in the end, she walked away from him, too. That was the reason he preferred hooking up with prostitutes - they never asked any questions and the work was always done. However, it was not enough. It has never been enough and deep inside he knew that. It was just a replacement, something to drown out the voice that kept saying him that no one would ever care for him; no one would ever love him, because he was not worthy of being loved. But what if the voice in his head, the voice that sounded exactly like Amanda’s, was wrong? What if he was worth all these things he had always thought he wasn’t? Maybe if he tried hard enough, he would deserve the feeling of being loved?

He looked at the woman whose head was resting on his left arm - Phoebe did not know the things Amanda did. He was not a robber in Phoebe's eyes nor old, greedy prick. In her eyes, he had a chance to be someone better than that. He had a chance to prove he was better. She saw him as her saviour, no one else.

Michael shuddered when out of sudden Phoebe muttered something under her breath quietly then moved her left hand on his chest. He caressed the top of it, feeling her soft skin under his rough fingertips. Even though she was lying by him fully clothed, he found this moment extremely intimate; she was so vulnerable, so innocent and fragile. She let herself drift away in her sleep, showing she trusted him. She trusted him enough to know, he would not hurt her or at least, she hoped he would not.

He craved for this kind of intimacy. He wanted to be with someone, not only physically because he has always had enough of that. He wanted to be with someone like her - the woman who did not judge him right away, even though she could have. When he thought of the girl he was making out with last night, he could not even recall her name. He did not care - that girl did not matter for him, anyway.

The one that did, for reasons unknown to him yet, was still sleeping tightly nestled up against him.

Michael did not know how long he has been lying like that with her, thinking how pretty she was and how lucky he was that he decided to come to his party. He was also hoping he had not screwed everything up last night.

She moved again, but this time she opened up her dark eyes slowly and looked at him hazily, sending him a gentle smile.

“Hey, you,” she said softly. "Up so early?"

“Told you I have sleeping issues,” Michael replied, returning the smile. “How do you feel?”

“Pretty okay,” she told him and at the same time, she realised what was the position they were lying in. She withdrew her hand and backed off slowly while the blush appeared on her cheeks.

“Sorry about that. I should’ve warned you I like to cuddle up when I sleep,” she apologised when she sat up, trying to gather her thoughts.

“It’s okay,” he told her and a small chuckle escaped his mouth as he also sat up. “Actually, I could get used to that.”

“Is that so?” She cocked her brow.

“Yeah,” he agreed. "It was nice to have you next to me at night."

“I’m glad I could make your night better," she paused. “Last night wasn’t precisely the way I imagined it to be. I wasn’t expecting a random guy drug my drink and pass out in front of you."

“It ain’t your fault,” he said, hoping his words would sound comforting. “It could happen to anyone, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Phoebe nodded, “but why things like that have to always happen to me? Why do I always have to meet bad guys on my way?”

“Oh, so you consider me the bad guy, too?” Michael asked, curious.

“Well, you tell me.” She tilted her head to the side.

“Are you one?” “It depends on whether you want me to be one," he replied.

“Good or bad, it doesn’t matter as long as you have some decency in yourself, it’s fine,” she said. “You definitely have some of it in yourself. When I look at you I see a man who saved my life. I see someone rather good than bad."

He sent her a warm smile. “I just did what seemed right for me. It’s not a big deal...”

“Thank you, Michael,” she interrupted him, “because you didn’t have to do any of these things, but you did. It’s a big deal for me and I wish things went differently last night. It would have saved you much trouble.” She glanced at him and then her eyes went back down. “Listen... Would it be too

much if I asked you for a ride? I could really use a shower. I feel and look like a walking mess.”

She looked up at him, her mascara slightly smudged under her tired eyes, but it did not matter for Michael, who still found her beautiful.

“It wouldn’t,” he replied after a moment. “We didn’t have much time to talk yesterday, though. Maybe you would consider staying here for the day,” he spoke and seeing she began thinking about his proposal, he added: “I also have a bathroom and a few spare clothes if you need them.”

“I don’t want to be a burden for you,” she admitted, “or cause you any more trouble." “You’re not a burden,” he told her. “Come on, say yes.”

“Okay,” she tried to sound casual, so he would not know she that deep inside she was excited to spend some more time with him.

“Great,” Michael replied and got up from the bed. “Make yourself at home then.”

“And where are you going?” she asked, watching him grabbing his phone from the shelf and walking towards the door.

“I thought you could use some privacy. Unless you want me to join you in the shower?” he teased.

“No, I think I’m good,” she replied, feeling her cheeks burn. She was rarely this intimidated by anyone’s words even if they had sexual context, but this time, somehow, it was different. “That's a tempting offer, though."

He smirked at her then left his bedroom. She could hear his steps as he ran down the stairs while she laid down again, trying to gather her thoughts. What a night, she thought to herself and reached out for her phone that Michael had put down on the night shelf earlier. There were many missed calls and unread texts from Amy, so she tried to call her back, but sadly, there was no answer. Instead of calling, Phoebe wrote a text in which she apologised her for what happened last night and asked to call back whenever she would be able to. Last night was unfortunate and messy, but it did not mean they were not friends anymore.

After a while, she sat up again, her feet touching the soft, beige carpet. She did not pay attention to it earlier, but everything in Michael’s bedroom seemed so luxurious; after all, he was living in a mansion, so no wonder he spent loads of money on it. However, what was interesting for Phoebe, he did not look like someone who had this much money, not at first glance at least. He seemed so normal to her and maybe that was the reason she could not believe in the life he has been living.

She left the bedroom and directed her steps right to the bathroom, quietly closing the doors behind her. She skipped looking into the mirror and as soon as she took off her dress and unwrapped the bandage from her thigh, she got into the shower, letting the hot water ease the pain in her muscles.

There was a knock at the doors so she quickly finished showering and covered herself with the towel. Her hair was soaking wet as she did not have time to dry it, but she managed to wash what was left of her makeup off her face, so she eventually looked decent.

“It’s me,” Michael spoke loudly from the other side of doors. “I’ve got you some clothes to change and...” The doors opened and he saw her barely covered with the towel. His jaw dropped slightly, but he quickly realised she was also staring at him, smiling shyly as she caught him looking at something he was not supposed to.

“And what?” she asked as he did not speak for a while.

“Some clean bandages,” he finished then cleared his throat. “Speaking of the devil,” he pointed his head at her left thigh where a trickle of blood was running down. “Do you need a hand with that?

“No,” she blurted and her right hand moved down quickly, forgetting she was holding a towel with it. She managed to grab it with the other one, but she definitely looked as if she needed some help, running out of hands to use. “Maybe,” she said and Michael chuckled, seeing her struggling with the towel and the wound at once.

“Alright, stay still,” he ordered, placing the clothes on the countertop and crouching next to her so his eyes were at the level of the wound. He carefully uncovered her thigh and gently put a fresh gauze on the wound. Then, he began wrapping the clean bandage around it while Phoebe was doing her best to keep her intimacies covered and praying, he would not notice how awkward she felt.

“Never a dull moment with you, eh?” Michael said and looked up at her. She did not reply, just kept smiling shyly. When he finished taking care of her, he stood up, bringing his face dangerously close to hers. “Done,” he moved back a little, realising this situation could easily get out of hand and he could do something he would definitely regret later.

“Never,” she replied eventually and took a deep breath, trying to calm down her pounding heart. “Thanks.”

“It’s nothing,” he moved to the doors and when he was one leg outside, he said: “I’ll... I'll be downstairs.”

When the doors closed, she had taken a moment to cool down before she began wiping off her body and hair. Once she was done, she took a glance at the clothes Michael brought her, realising they probably belonged to his daughter. She clearly did not like to wear much as everything was extremely short and even though Phoebe was not the tallest, the denim shorts he brought would barely cover up her ass.

She sighed, deciding she would stick to her dress. If she was in his daughter’s shoes, she would not want some random woman to wear her clothes. It was kind of him to offer her that, but she wanted to be fair to his daughter. Besides, she felt good in that black dress and what was more important, she noticed the way he looked at her when she was wearing it.

After brushing her still wet hair and making sure there was no makeup left on her face, she left the bathroom, directing her steps to the bedroom again. She grabbed her heels, purse and phone from there and went downstairs, putting her belongings down next to the front door. She walked to the kitchen and the first thing she saw was Michael leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Didn’t you like the clothes I brought you?” He cocked his eyebrow.

“I did, but I figured out they belong to your daughter, so... If I was her, I wouldn’t want anyone else to wear my clothes,” Phoebe explained and sat on the chair by the kitchen island. “Is there something wrong with my dress? Don’t you like it?” she asked. “Is it too short or...”

“It’s perfect,” Michael interrupted her and placed a cup in front of her. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really,” she admitted and indulged in the smell of morning coffee, “I don’t really like to eat in the morning.”

“Neither do I,” he smiled then downed his coffee, “but if you get hungry, let me know.”

“Sure,” Phoebe responded. “So, what’s her name?”

“Whose name?”

“Your daughter’s,” she specified.

“Tracey,” Michael replied and smiled gently as he spoke her name.

“Pretty,” Phoebe said then took a sip of her coffee. “Daddy’s girl, isn’t she?”

“Not really, but I love her like a crazy, anyway,” he shook his head. “She lives in her own world and does things I don’t really understand, but still...”

“I get it,” she smiled at him warmly, “I mean I can only imagine what you feel. My dad and I were really close, but he didn't understand many of my choices.”

“Were?”

“He passed away a few years ago... Five years. He was the closest person to me and... I just... When he was alive everything was easier.” She sighed and felt tears in her eyes, but she quickly brushed them away. “Damn, this pain never seems to ease. Sorry, I... I rarely talk about him.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” he approached her and wrapped his arms around her. She returned the hug, covering her face in his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

She did not reply but held him tightly, feeling safe and unnaturally calm when he was near her. After a while of hugging with him, she realised she was doing it again; trusting someone she barely knew. Well, barely might have sounded odd, considering this man saved her more times than anyone ever before him, but still, she could not help herself and felt all the things she should not have. It was happening too fast; she could not feel anything deeper than affection for him. She could not let herself get fooled by feelings again. If there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that feelings were deceptive and people often were different than they seemed.

_But how to listen to one’s mind when the heart wants what it wants?_

She closed her eyes and smelled his cologne mixed with the cigarettes he had smoked last night; this smell was so specific and strong but above all, it was his. So alluring and addictive, she wished she had never had to let him out of her arms.

But it was only her wish and she knew better not to believe in wishes.

“It’s okay,” she whispered and moved away to look at him. “It’s just hard to talk about him, that’s it.”

“If you’ll ever feel a need to talk about him, feel free to talk to me.” “Thank you,” she said gratefully.

“You’re welcome,” he cleared his throat. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday. I know you saw me with that girl... It wasn’t what it looked like, but you could get the wrong impression of me and... I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise me for,” she replied, shaking her head. “It’s not like we’re together or something, so... Do whatever you like,” she shrugged, but it cost her a lot to act as if she did not care what he was doing. “I behaved like a spoilt child and I’m the one who should be sorry.”

Michael gave her a questioning look and at that particular moment, he was the one who was caught off guard as he did not expect to react this way. He was prepared for her to be mad or jealous, but definitely not... Indifferent about what had happened the night before. What was she playing, he asked himself, realising her reaction was nothing like he expected.

She was not jealous, so did it also mean she did not care for him?

“Would you be mad if we were together?” he blurted, not thinking much of what he was saying.

“I think I would,” she admitted after a while, "and you?"

“I guess,” he shrugged. “I don’t like it when someone else touches what’s mine.”

“What’s yours, huh?” she pondered, getting up on her feet. “Isn’t it a little bit ironic? You wouldn’t like anyone else to touch what’s yours, but you gladly touch what’s someone else’s.”

Got you there, Michael thought to himself, realising he was not so indifferent to her. She tried her best to hide her jealousy from him, but it did not work exactly as she planned; it was hard to act indifferently when she reminded herself of what she had seen yesterday.

She walked to the living room and he followed her, watching her look around the big space they were in. After a bit, Phoebe sat down on the white leathered couch, resting her head against the big yellow pillow. Michael joined her and they had been sitting in the awkward silence for a while before she said:

“This place is huge, Michael. Doesn’t it ever get lonely when you live in such a big house alone?” “It does,” he replied. “Sometimes it gets lonely here."

“I can imagine,” she told him and turned her head towards the portrait showing two young people; the blonde girl and the boy with brown hair right next to her. “Is that your daughter?”

“Yeah,” Michael nodded, “and my son. Jimmy.” “How old are they?”

“Trace is twenty-two and Jimmy twenty-one,” he said and laughed right after. “Fuck, when I think how old my children are I also realise how old I am."

“Come on,” Phoebe told him, moving closer to him, so she could place a hand on his arm. “You have adult children, but it doesn't mean you're old.”

He looked at her suspiciously. “How old are you, gorgeous?”

“How old do I look?” she asked him, biting her bottom lip. “Take a guess. I won’t be mad.” “Hmmm,” Michael hummed and tilted his head to the side. “Twenty-ish?”

“Nope.”

“Older, or younger?”

“Older,” she laughed and brushed back her dark hair.

“Twenty-seven,” he took a guess but she shook her head again.

“Almost. Thirty,” Phoebe told him eventually, “but I’m glad you think I look younger. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Good, cause it was one,” Michael peeked at her and caught her staring. To his surprise, she did not look away this time but kept looking at him with her mouth slightly ajar. He smirked, realising he was thinking again how beautiful she was and how badly he wanted to taste her lips.

He was not the only one.

Out of sudden, let her feelings take control over her actions and did something that she had wanted to do the night before and certainly would do if her plans would not have gone to waste.

She lifted herself and gently moved onto Michael’s lap without facing any kind of resistance from him. On the contrary, he was confused with her actions at first, just to get excited as soon as she straddled him. Her hands cupped his face and thumbs brushed his clean-shaven cheeks. He instinctively rested his hands on her hips, waiting for her to make the next move.

That was how it should have gone last night. The place on his lap was hers, not some other woman she had seen him with.

“I was pissed last night when I saw you with her,” she told him, bringing her face close to his. “I don’t know why. I shouldn’t have felt like that. I barely know you, mystery man, but I can’t stop thinking of you since the moment I saw the beautiful flowers you had left for me back in the hospital. Maybe that was the reason I let myself hope for something more. I thought... For a second I thought I was special."

“You are,” Michael cupped her chin with one hand and wanted to pull her into the kiss, but before their lips could meet, the sound of the doorbell spread through the mansion. Not even a second later the doors opened rapidly and a specific man’s voice reached their ears.

“ _ **Mikey, you home**_?”

Phoebe froze, recognizing that voice immediately after she heard it. It could not be possible, she thought to herself. It could not be who she thought it was, it could not...

She moved away from Michael as if she got burned and from what she could see, he was just as confused as she was. Just as she managed to get off his lap, the owner of the voice that had just spread through the mansion appeared in the living room. She could not believe her eyes, thinking for a moment it was all a nightmare she would wake up from soon, but to her misfortune, it was not a nightmare.

It was real.

Trevor.

Phoebe did not expect to ever see him again. She was caught off guard, her eyes filled with fear instantly, so she turned her head away to avoid his sight. Act normal, she thought to herself, but she already could feel her heart pounding in her chest and her hands getting cold.

He entered the room and gave her and Michael a questioning looks while processing this whole situation in his head. The madness was visible in his eyes as he was lurking and smilingly ominously at Phoebe who had instinctively moved closer to Michael.

“Sugar tits,” he mocked, stepping towards them. “Sorry, but I had no idea you were busy-busy. Ain't this doll too pretty for your old ass?” He tilted his head to the side and took another look at

Phoebe. “Is it possible we know each other, sugar? I don’t know why, but you seem so fucking familiar to me.”

Phoebe did not reply, but she definitely remembered him from Sandy Shores, so there was a chance he remembered her, too. No, there was no chance... He had to remember her. This man was impossible to forget, even though she would give much to erase him from her memory. She peeked at him, realising he has not even changed that much during all these years. He was still wearing the same dirty grey sweatpants, used-to-be-white t-shirt and brown combat boots.

“I don’t know, is it?” she asked him back, doing her best to make her voice sound as casual as possible.

“Maybe you’re damn familiar to someone else I know.” Trevor shrugged then turned to Michael. “Anyway, I need your help, Mikey and I need it right now.”

“Can’t you see I’m, as you said, busy-busy?” Michael sent him a pissed look.

“Oh, come on,” Trevor interrupted him. “Won’t you help your best friend in need?” He looked at

Phoebe again. “Can I steal him for a moment, doll?”

“Sure. I was about to leave, anyway,” she said then got up from the couch.

“You don’t have to leave, Phoebe.” Michael had reached out for her hand before she could walk away from him.

“Phoebe?” Trevor repeated quietly, but loud enough for her to hear it. She swallowed loudly, hoping he would not connect the facts and just let her go without digging it out. After a short moment that seemed like an eternity for her, he shook his head and murmured: “Nevermind.”

“It’s fine,” she replied to Michael as her hand slipped out of his. “I have some things to take care of.” She sent him a reassuring smile and then walked by Trevor, directing her steps to the hall. She picked up her things, that she had left next to the stairs and was about to leave when Michael stepped out of the living room.

“You sure you don’t want me to give you a ride?” he asked.

“No, thank you. I’m okay,” she responded while she was putting on her heels. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

Before Michael could say anything in return, she had waved him goodbye quickly and disappeared behind the doors of his mansion. For a second, he was wondering whether he should not have run after her and made sure she would get home safely, but then he also reminded himself of his psycho friend who was waiting for him in the living room.

“You alright?” Trevor asked as Michael came back and he saw his not-pleased-at-all face.

“No, I’m not alright, Trevor,” he hissed, grabbing the empty glass from the cabinet and tossing it ahead. The glass was smashed against the floor and Michael sighed heavily, leaning his back against the wall and rubbing his temples. “What do you want?”

“You, my friend, have serious anger issues,” Trevor stated, ignoring his friend’s question. “I’m sorry for ruining the moment with this pretty hooker, but seriously, you should think of getting yourself someone your age.”

”I can't believe you’re the one to tell me a thing like this,” Michael snorted. “Besides, she’s not a

hooker,” he added. “She’s a really nice girl.”

“I can’t believe that. Nice girl?” Trevor taunted. “Tell me something about her, like... Where did you meet her?”

“Really?” Michael asked and Trevor nodded. “Um, well... remember the last time we were working together? When we were chasing those crazy folks you messed up with?”

“They messed up with me,” Trevor corrected. “Don’t change the facts.”

“Whatever,” Michael rolled up his eyes. “They opened up a fire, so did we. You continued chasing them, but I pulled over when I realised something was wrong and—”

“Oh my, you’ve always been a soft cunt, Mikey.”

“Can you please stop interrupting me?” Michael glared at his friend. “As it turned out, i accidentally shot her. I don’t even know how it happened. I didn’t mean to shoot her, but I somehow I did and I began having remorse right after. So, I sent her flowers, leaving her my number and she texted me. I didn’t expect that either, but we met and honestly, I couldn’t believe that such a pretty girl wanted to waste her time on me.”

“Ah, it explains a lot. Especially the blood-stained bandage on her thigh,” Trevor marked then got lost in his thoughts, thinking about what Michael had told him. “Wait, so did it all for her because you had remorse?”

“No, of course not...”

“Oh, so you’ve told her you were the one to shoot her?”

“No, but...”

“Fuck me, Mike,” Trevor laughed deeply, “and you say I’m the one who’s fucked up.”

“What was I supposed to tell her?” Michael asked. “I shot you and I’m sorry, it was an accident? Alright, maybe I sent her flowers because I was having remorse, but when we met and we began talking...”

“What? You felt your pants getting tight when she was around?” Trevor said and got up from Michael’s couch.

Michael puffed. “Aren’t you the one who thinks every single girl is the one? Do you remember Madrazo?” Trevor showed him his middle finger in response.

“You want to piss me off?”

“No,” Michael replied. “Just tell me what you want and get out of my place.”

“Just one more thing before that and I’m telling you this because unlike you, I have a heart. If you truly like her, tell her the truth. Break the endless cycle of the lies you’re living in.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Do you want me to do it for you?” “You won’t dare...”

“Try me,” Trevor chuckled and backed off with his hands raised in the gesture of surrender. “I’m giving you a chance to do it yourself. Fuck, Mikey, do the right thing!”

“And why would I do that? To push her away? To make her hate me before she gets to know me?” Michael sounded bitter as he talked.

“You might push her away,” Trevor began, “but if she finds out what you did later, she’ll hate you for it. No wonder why, to be honest. No one likes to live in a fucking lie!”

“Here we go again, huh? You’ll never stop bringing this up?”

“Never,” Trevor agreed. “It’s hard to forget someone who had faked his death, right?”

Michael knew there was no point in continuing this discussion, so he approached the kitchen island and poured himself another glass of whiskey. He glanced at his friend, wondering what the hell he wanted from him this time.

Mentally unstable, gross, scary, but still...

His friend.

The best and the worst he could have ever asked for.


	5. Hearty Taco

It had been a few days since Phoebe and Michael saw each other and the lack of contact from him made her feel anxious. She was hoping he was not mad at her after she had left his place when Trevor paid him an unexpected visit. She did not want to risk confrontation with a psychopath she had met before. Besides, if he recognized her, what would she do? It was not the best moment to explain it all to Michael, not right after they almost make out on his couch.

Phoebe also began wondering whether she was not making this whole thing easy for him. She definitely did not want to be anyone's lady for the night, because was not into this kind of thing. She needed more than that and at some point, after many unanswered calls to Michael, she started questioning if he was capable of giving her what she needed.

Maybe she was wrong right about him and he wanted to make her his lady for the night? She was confused and his absence did not help at all.

At least Amy was glad about the fact Michael was gone. After what had happened at the party, she claimed it was a bad idea and it simply could not work. It was not something Phoebe expected to hear from her friend, but at the same time, she knew that Amy wanted best for her, so she did not take her friend's opinion too personal.

Her shift was almost done when her phone rang and the name she desperately wanted to see for days appeared on the screen. Michael. At first, she wanted to answer and tell him how much she missed him but instead, she rejected the call. She put her phone back to her bag and tried to ignore it as it kept vibrating. It took him over a week to call. A few ignored calls were supposed to give him a taste of his own medicine, even though it hurt her more than him.

After an hour, she left Coffee Redemption and was blinded by the rays of the afternoon sun. It was another hot day in Los Santos and fortunately for her, she was no longer obliged to wear a bandage on her thigh as her wound was healing well, so she could wear a short denim skirt and white top, not risking getting overheated in tight jeans.

“Phoebe, wait up!” Suddenly, she heard a man’s voice calling her from behind. “What’s up, Joe?” Phoebe asked as the man reached her.

Joe was her co-worker and since she started working in the cafe. He has also been trying to flirt with her, but she turned him down every time. The reason was simple - he was not her type, even though many women would call him handsome and it would not be a big surprise. He was tall, well-built, and his dark blonde hair was contrasting with his tanned skin - a perfect boyfriend material, but unfortunately, not for her.

“You left so quickly I didn’t manage to invite you to my party tonight,” he stated and sent the flirtatious smile that made her roll up her eyes at him. “What do you say, Phoebe?”

“Another party? I don’t know, Joe. I’m in the mood, but thanks for the invitation,” she replied.

“I’ll text you the details,” he suggested, “in case you changed your mind." Joe handed her his phone. "Could you give me your number?”

Phoebe looked at him, not being sure whether she wanted to give her number to a guy like him, but then she realized had nothing to lose. She typed her number on his phone and returned it to him, smiling kindly when he took it from her. “Lovely. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t think I’m gonna change my mind, though,” she told him.

“It was worth a try, right?” he winked at her as she walked away. "Hope to see you around!"

Phoebe rolled up her eyes again, wondering how anyone could be that stubborn. She turned him down so many times, but he kept trying to get her to like him as if she did nothing to show him that she was not interested.

She was interested in someone else, but apparently that certain someone was not as interested as she was.

Maybe going to Joe’s party tonight was not as bad as she thought? She would have some good time, maybe she would even stop thinking about Michael for a moment... Maybe. The other option was it would end as bad as the last party and that she definitely wanted to avoid.

“If I remember it good, you said you didn’t have a boyfriend?” She shuddered at another sound of the familiar voice behind her back. “I’ve been calling you for over an hour.” She turned around slowly just to see Michael with his arms crossed on his chest. “Is it so hard to pick up?”

“You tell me,” she snapped at him. “I’ve been trying to reach you for a week. What the hell, Michael?”

“At least I’m not pretending I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You mean Joe?” Phoebe puffed and shook her head slowly. “Don't be ridiculous."

“This guy was literally drooling over you,” Michael pointed and Phoebe could not believe he was making a problem out of it. She did not expect him to be a jealous type, but apparently, she was wrong. Again. “Mister Perfect, eh? But did you notice he was wearing a shirt a size too small?”

“Don't be jealous,” she teased, realizing he really had a problem with seeing you with someone else.

“I’m not jealous,” Michael said firmly, but Phoebe was far from believing him.

“Yeah, of course, you’re not.” She shrugged, not wanting to argue about it with him and Michael pretended he did not hear what she just said. “Where were you? You literally ghosted on me.”

“I’m sorry for that,” he interrupted her. “It’s been a rough week and...” “You didn’t have time to call or send a message?”

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but... I was helping Trevor with one of his... issues,” Michael tried to explain himself, but it was not appealing for Phoebe.

“For over a week, Michael?” She sighed and when he unfolded his arms, she noticed his left hand was wrapped in a bandage. “Oh my god, what happened?” she pointed her head the wound.

“It's nothing,” Michael replied then stepped towards her. “Phoebe, please... I don’t want to argue and I wish I could explain it to you, but trust me, you don't want to know."

“I thought you were mad at me,” she admitted after a while. “I don't usually leave like that, but your Trevor... He scared me off."

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckled. “Trevor has a tendency to do that to people. To scare them off.”

“Yeah,” Phoebe agreed and not being able to hold herself back any longer, she let herself approach and wrap her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Don't think you're forgiven."

“I don’t,” he replied and wrapped pulled him even closer by her waist. "Do I deserve a second chance?"

"I don't know," she said then pulled away a bit to see his face. "I'm weak," she added. "You do."

* * *

Using the fact that Michael had his car parked around the corner, Phoebe suggested to go to her place and eat something for dinner. She was living not so far from the cafe, in Hawick, at the corner of Spanish Avenue, so the ride there was short. They reached her flat on the second floor of the yellow building with a big number 2421 on it and this time, it was Michael who took a moment to look around. Her place was small - there was just one bedroom, a tiny hallway, bathroom and the kitchen. Not that he expected her to live in a mansion, but for the past few years, he got used to living in bigger spaces.

“I know it's not your mansion,” she noted then put away her bag on the floor. “You don’t need to point it out for me.”

“It's cosy,” Michael said and as he walked into the kitchen, he put his car keys on the table. “You definitely had a great view,” he added then looked through the window, seeing the cityscape full of tall buildings. “No annoying neighbours...”

“Well, an old lady is living next doors, so, you know, it wouldn't be wise to throw a party here,” Phoebe said and began preparing the dinner for them. “I can’t complain, though. I really like this place." Michael smiled gently in response and continued looking through the window as he sat down by the table, peeking at his companion from time to time as she began cooking.

“Why didn’t you let me take you out?” he asked out of sudden.

“I just really wanted to eat pasta,” she replied shortly.

“You know we could eat it anywhere in the city?”

“I know,” she chuckled, “but trust me, I make the best pasta in this city.”

“Is that so? I had no idea you were this confident,” Michael said and she turned around to look at him.

“Well, usually I’m not this confident,” Phoebe admitted, “but this pasta is spectacular.”

“I guess we’ll see about that.”

Phoebe snorted and continued dinner’s preparations while Michael let himself look at her, at her slim body and long legs accentuated by the short skirt she was wearing. There were many pretty girls in Michael’s life, but none of them was like her. None of them was cooking for him, not even Amanda. Suddenly, he found himself very hungry, not only for the pasta she was making but for her and it took him much self-control not to stand up and rip that short skirt off her.

Such a tease, he thought to himself as Phoebe bent down, searching for something in the cupboard. As she got up, he looked away instantly and she giggled, putting two plates she was holding away and approached him, standing in between his legs.

“I know you’ve been gawking at me for 5 minutes, so you don’t have to look away,” she teased, placing her hands on his shoulders.

“I wasn’t... Okay, maybe I have,” he admitted, taking her hips in his hands and looking up at her. “I can’t take my eyes off you.”

“Really?” she asked. “Is this because you like me or you simply want to fuck me?” “Where does that question come from, huh?” Michael was caught off guard.

“Just curious,” she replied casually and then, after a moment of thinking she added. “Actually, I... I’ve heard things. Things about you.”

“And what exactly did you hear?” he cocked his brow.

“I’ve heard you like the company of hookers,” Phoebe decided it would be the best if she was straight-forward with him. “You’re also quite famous in Vanilla Unicorn,” she specified. "There’s nothing wrong with that, but I... I don’t do one night stands.”

She looked down when she finished speaking. There was an uncomfortable silence between them as Michael did not know what to reply, angry that his past would never stop reminding him of itself. Every time he wanted to leave it behind, it came back at the worst moment it possibly could.

“It's not like that, Phoebe,” he told her eventually then let a loud sigh. “I know my reputation isn’t good, but I'm trying to be a better man now.” He moved his hands on top of hers and caressed them gently. “Back then I was in a shitty marriage with many problems going around and I...”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” she interrupted him. “I just had to ask." “Alright," Michael replied. "By the way, can you smell that? I think your pasta is burning.”

Phoebe murmured something under her breath and freed herself from his embrace then hurried towards the stove. She palmed her face and sighed heavily, realising that indeed, her dinner was burned and there was no way she was going to serve it to Michael.

She heard him chuckling quietly as he approached her from behind and embraced her, placing his chin on her right shoulder.

“So what do you think about eating out now?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” she turned her head to him and with the tip of her nose, she brushed his clean-shaven cheek.

“Not really.” He had smiled quickly before he left a kiss on her nose, catching her by surprise and planting a smile on her face too. “Come on, don’t make me ask you twice.”

* * *

“How did you know I love tacos?” Phoebe asked him after they had eaten in one of Hearty Taco restaurants on West Mirror Drive and were already heading back to Michael’s car.

It was getting late - the sun was already going down, hiding behind the tall buildings, but they did not seem to care. They both lost the track of time, consumed by their conversation and did not want this evening to end.

“Who doesn’t love tacos?” Michael asked her back. "However, if I'm honest, it was just a lucky guess,” he added. “I’m a bit sad I missed your pasta, though.”

“I can cook it for you again, but you have to promise you will stop distracting me.”

“Distracting you?” he laughed. “What about you distracting me with those pretty long legs of yours, huh? I’m pleased to see them without a bandage. It’s good to see you all safe and sound.”

“I wish I could say the same about you,” she said and took his left hand in hers carefully. “It’s bleeding, Mike.”

“Yeah, it’s hard not to use a hand. Every time I do, the wound opens up,” he pointed as they stopped by his car.

“Don’t you think a doctor should see it and maybe... Stitch it up?” she suggested gently pressing the wound and Michael groaned in pain. “Someone definitely has to see this.”

“No,” Michael hissed. “No doctors, hospitals, needles, nothing.”

“Why?” She could not hide her surprise, rising both of her brows. “It’ll never heal properly if someone doesn’t stitch your hand up,” she told him. “Unless you're afraid of needles?”

“I just don’t like them,” he replied shortly. “Hospitals and doctors either.” “What about nurses?” Phoebe moved in front of him.

“I guess it goes the same with them,” Michael stated.

“What if I stitched your hand?” she questioned.

“Are you a doctor?"

“In theory,” she chuckled. “Some time ago I was attending medical school, but... Many things changed in my life and I never started my residency program. I definitely remember how to stitch someone up, though.” Her hands moved and smoothed the collar of Michael’s light blue shirt. “I promise I'll be gentle."

“Hmmm... Alright.” He agreed after a moment of intense thinking. The vision of her taking care of him was encouraging enough to make him forget about his aversion to needles and pain they caused. “But only if you promise you won't do me a harm.”

“Of course,” she assured him then got inside the car. Michael joined her after a few seconds, sitting in driver’s seat and turning the engine on. “In the meantime, try not to leave much blood on the driver’s wheel,” she joked and he laughed humorlessly in response. “This car must’ve cost a fortune.”

“Wanna change seats?” Michael suggested, but Phoebe knew better than to agree to it.

“I think your man’s pride wouldn’t handle it,” she told him and pointed her on the road. “Let’s go, before you’re gonna bleed out on me.”

* * *

“Roll up your sleeve,” Phoebe commanded as she placed her medical equipment on her kitchen table. Among needles, threads and scissors there was also something to clean wounds, but Michael could not tell what as it did not have a label on it. He obediently did what she had told him to then waited for her to come back after she disappeared in the bathroom.

“Okay,” she said and put her phone out of her back pocket, placing it on the table. “Let me have a closer look.”

She took a seat next to him and as Michael held his hand out to her, she slowly began unwrapping the soaked bandage and peeking at him comfortingly from time to time.

“You look pretty in glasses,” he told her as she put the used bandage away. “I didn't think you need to wear them."

“I’m full of surprises,” she chuckled quietly, “and I wear them only if I need to take a closer look at something.”

“You look like a pro,” Michael joked.

“And I look like a pro,” she repeated, “or at least like I knew what I’m doing.” She examined his wound for a while, tilting her head from the left to the right. “So, what happened?”

“Does it matter?" he asked.

“No, I'm just curious,” she replied while she put on a pair of blue nitrile gloves. “I can imagine what happened next. Ouch.”

“Yeah, ouch describes it perfectly,” he pointed and watched her pouring some liquid on the clean gauze. Without any warning, she put it on his wound, making him curse under his breath as the wound began to sting. “Fuck, Phoebe...”

“It’s alright, tough guy,” she shushed him then blew on the cut. “Better?”

“A bit,” he replied and she moved his hand on the table. “Now the nasty part, huh?” “It won’t hurt,” Phoebe assured him. “The worst is already behind you.”

It hurt a little when the needle came through his skin for the first time, but the worse thing was the view. He has never liked needles, so the thought of someone stitching him up while he was conscious was making him really uncomfortable. At some point, halfway there, his hand trembled and he swallowed loudly, closing his eyes slightly.

“Are you alright?” Phoebe murmured, focused on the task.

“Yeah, it’s just... I’m not a big fan of that,” he explained, trying to sound confident.

“I guess no one is,” she chuckled and looked up at him from above his hand the same moment when her phone began ringing on the table. She peeked at it then sighed, realising it was Joe calling her. She forgot about the party he had invited her to and he was probably calling to ask her where she was. “Oh, fuck off,” she rejected the call, but the moment she was about to go back to Michael’s hand, it rang again.

“Boyfriend calling?” Michael joked and received a glare from Phoebe in response. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t have a boyfriend?” She rolled up her eyes.

“I'm just teasing you. Is this the same guy that was bothering you earlier?” he asked and she confirmed. “Hand me your phone.”

“No... Michael!”

“Trust me." He grabbed her phone. “Hey buddy,” he said when he placed the phone next to his ear. “Phoebe? Why are you so desperately trying to call my girl, eh? Oh, you didn’t know she was seeing someone? Like hell, you didn’t,” Michael chuckled deeply. “So, listen up, pal, cause I’m gonna say it just once. Stop calling her unless you want to get in real trouble. Am I joking? Does 9mm semi-automatic sound like a joke to you? Ah, I thought so. Stay away from her, understood?” He hung up right after he spoke the last words and placed her phone back on the table.

“You didn’t have to do that."

“Yeah, I know, but I didn’t want to you to be bothered by him,” Michael pointed. “If he’s bothering you, he’s bothering me, too.”

Phoebe smiled from ear to ear and looked down, trying to hide the blush that appeared on her cheeks. She focused on finishing stitching the palm of his hand, trying not to think about this warm feeling that has filled her body. She was almost there, two more moves and she would be done, when Michael’s hand twitched again, making her press the wound harder than she wanted to.

“Fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “That hurt, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” she said quietly. She finished her work a moment later and put the needle aside. “Done,” she stated and took off the gloves. "You have to be careful with that hand for a few days, okay? Don’t overuse it.”

“Okay, doc,” Michael replied. "Thank you."

“Stop it,” she smiled shyly. “I’m glad I could eventually repay you for rescuing me so many times.” Her hand moved to his left and stroked the inner side of it, feeling rough sutures under her fingertips. “It’s nothing.”

“On the contrary, it’s more than you think,” he pointed and leaned down, so he was closer to her. “Hope you’re not mad at me for talking to this dude. You had said something about the party earlier when we were in Hearty Taco if I remember it right..."

“I wasn’t planning on going anyway,” she told him. “Not since you’re here with me.”

“Oh, so I’m a better option than the party with this handsome friend of yours?” he half-teased, half-joked, but no matter what his intentions were, he did not expect the reaction that came from her.

“He’s not my type,” she stated, placing her hands on his neck. “Unlike you,” she added and Michael smirked proudly.

He was about to say something when he felt her pink, chapped lips on his. She did not kiss him, not in the strict meaning of it at least. Her lips were barely brushing his, but for Michael, it seemed so intense and sensual. It has been a while since someone kissed him like that, so delicately and softly. It was not the way hookers or Amanda did kiss him. It was not mechanical. It was so pure, gentle and intimate, and above all - she did it because she wanted to, not because he paid her for it. Michael could not help, but let out a quiet moan when she pulled away, her cheeks flushed and eyes slightly open. He leaned in for another kiss, but she stopped him, pulling him away gently.

“Hey, easy,” she said. “I meant what I said... I don’t want to be your lady for the night, Michael.”

“It was never an option,” he replied and moved away a bit, but not too far. It was hard for him to take his desire to lift and carry her straight to her bed, just to make her moan his name for the whole night.

“Is that so?”

“Not that I don’t want that.” He put an accent on that word and it was obvious what he meant by that. “But it’s not the only thing that matters to me. I know my reputation can make you think bad of me, but it’s not...”

“I don’t want to think of you basing on your reputation,” she interrupted. “I’m more interested in figuring out who you are by myself." She sent him a flirtatious smile. “But no rush.”

“No rush?”

“I want to get to know you,” she explained. “I already know you’re afraid of needles, that’s a good start.”

“Hey, I’m not... It’s not that I’m afraid...” “Yeah,” she laughed. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“It’s not funny,” he said in a serious tone but burst out laughing a moment later. “Okay, maybe a little, but don’t make fun out of me because of that, alright?”

“Oh, Michael, we all have fears, more or less rational,” she replied. “I’m not making fun out of you because you have one. I'm laughing because you desperately want to deny it.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t have any fear you’re ashamed of.” “Of course, I do," she replied. "I have plenty."


	6. Scarred By The Past

They talked much that night since Phoebe had convinced Michael to stay with her. Actually, she did not need to convince him, because he agreed to stay the moment that proposition came out of her mouth. None of them wanted to be alone that night, not after having such a lovely day together. The number of things they were talking about seemed to have no end; starting from their hobbies, music preferences, favourite movies and ending with more complex topics like why did Michael’s marriage fell apart. To his surprise, it all came so easy - talking to Phoebe was not intimidating for him. She was listening carefully to every word he said and it was something he definitely was not used.

As their conversation kept going, they moved from the kitchen to the bedroom and got comfortable on Phoebe’s king-sized bed. The number of colourful pillows she had on her bed was a little bit overwhelming, but Michael stopped caring about some goddamn pillows the moment she hugged him, resting her head on his chest. He doubted anything could disturb him while she was around as all he could focus on was the smile on her face when she looked up at him.

“Your wife has no idea what she's missing,” Phoebe said and caressed his chest. “Ex-wife,” he corrected.

“Ex-wife,” she repeated, correcting herself. “I don't want to judge, but I think there was something wrong with her. You’re a great guy, Michael,” Phoebe added then moved to the side, propping herself on her left elbow. “She simply couldn’t see it.”

“We'd been married for many years, so she had plenty of time to see through me. However, I don’t think we would even get married if it wasn’t for her pregnancy. I mean... We liked each other, but I don’t think it was love. More like... Obligation. There was Tracey, Jimmy... Life went on and we figured out our own ways to cope with reality.”

“I see,” Phoebe said and a gentle smile appeared on her face. “It was what it was. Life goes on."

Michael returned the smile and dared to tuck her hair behind her right ear. It was rare for him to find a woman as sweet and charming as she was. He adored the way she laughed, the way she touched him, looked at him and spoke to him; when he was around her, he felt appreciated and important like he actually mattered something to her.

He was staring at her and could not believe in his luck. She was with him because she wanted to, not because he paid her for it. She was listening to what he was saying because she was interested in what he had to say, not because it was her obligation. He was staring at her when he felt this fuzzy feeling inside - the one he has not felt in a very long time.

“Hey, Michael.” Phoebe tried to bring his attention back to her when she noticed he was lost in thought. “Penny for your thoughts,” she added and climbed onto him, straddling his lap.

“I was thinking...” he pondered, knowing telling her what he was really thinking about was not an option, so he had to come up with something else. “What’s that fear you're ashamed of?”

“Ugh, do we really have to talk about that?” she whined.

“Hey, you know my fear,” Michael pointed. “I’d love to know one of yours, so I wouldn’t feel like a complete idiot.”

“Mine is really weird,” she stated. “Like, even weirder than the fear of needles.”

He grabbed her and with one swift movement, he changed their positions, placing her gently on her back.

“Come on, Pheebs,” he said then began tickling her under the ribs. She wriggled beneath him and began squealing like a baby girl, trying to free herself from this torture, but she failed miserably. “I won't stop until you tell me,” Michael threatened and continued his merciless tickling. As they were wrestling with each other, Phoebe did not notice when her top rolled up, revealing her belly, but Michael did. The moment he saw the bottom of it covered up in nasty scars, he stopped, leaning down and taking a closer look at them. “What hap—“

“It’s nothing,” Phoebe cut him off and quickly covered the place he was looking at with her top.

“No, it isn't nothing,” Michael said, pulling away from her a little. She assured him once more it was nothing, but he was far from believing her. With his left hand, he had cupped her right cheek and forced her to look him in the eyes before he asked: “What happened?”

She did not reply at first, fighting the tears that eventually fell down on her cheeks. “It’s another thing I don’t really want to talk about,” she whispered.

“Fine,” Michael agreed. “Will you at least let me see it?” he asked and Phoebe nodded, brushing the tears with the back of her left hand. She was watching as he rolled up her top and unbuttoned her skirt, moving it down a bit, so he could see all the scars that were placed over there.

“They’re disgusting... I know,” she murmured, but Michael did not share her opinion. At first, he did not say anything in return, because he had no idea what to say.

She closed her eyes, trying not to be such a crybaby in front of him and hoping these scars would not loathe him.

“They’re not disgusting,” he replied after a while. “Will you tell me what happened?” He could not let it go like that.

She sighed loudly and as he rolled to the side and waited for her to say something. He wrapped his left arm around her when she decided to tell him what had happened that left such awful scars.

“Where do I start?” She chuckled quietly and also rolled to the side, so she could watch him as she spoke: “Well... It’s complicated,” she stated, trying to find a good way to start her story. “My brother, Dan. I... My family always had its issues, you know... I guess every family has its own... Anyway, we had our issues, but we were all doing well until my brother started doing drugs. My mother... She has always had her problems with alcohol, so she didn’t mind her son slowly getting addicted... On the other hand, it was profitable, because Daniel was not only taking drugs but also selling them. It was helpful, considering there was a time when... It was really hard. My dad was terminally sick, my mom was permanently drunk and my brother was high almost every day... It was a mess, but it was somehow working until the day my dad died.” She had paused for a moment before she decided to continue: “Then, one day my brother lost what was left of his control. He was taking way too much of this shit and he became aggressive. It t went too far, we had an argument and he grabbed the bottle... He shattered it against the counter and... He stabbed me with what was left of it. I almost bled out on the goddamn kitchen floor while he and my mother did nothing to help me. They probably didn’t remember anything from that day,” she closed her eyes. "I did remember everything, though. It made me realize how big shit we were in.”

“Phoebe, I...” Michael could not believe what she had been through and it was hard for him to say anything constructive in return. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too,” she replied quietly. “See... I’m so ashamed of these scars because they keep reminding me how fucked up my family is and what my brother did to me..." Phoebe smiled weakly at him and her right hand caressed his cheek. “You asked me about one of the fears I’m ashamed of, so here it is. No matter how ridiculous that sounds I’m really scared of shattered glass,” she confessed. “Break a cup in front of me and I’ll sweat in no time... How stupid is that?”

“It’s not stupid,” he shook his head.“At least, it's not as stupid as my fear of needles.” “It's not that stupid," Phoebe pointed. "We can work on that.”

“We can,” Michael agreed, “but first, we need to take care of you. I mean... You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he paused. “Your family doesn’t define you, neither does your scars,” he stated then moved down, brushing her scars and the skin around them with his lips. He was kissing them gently, not missing an inch and Phoebe trembled, feeling the spark coming through her body. Michael was peeking at her from above her belly, making sure she was okay with what he was doing.

She was stunned at first, but quickly her body adapted to the touch of his lips on her velvet skin. Michael seemed to be pleased when a small gasp escaped Phoebe’s mouth; that was when he began moving up and leaving a trail of small pecks on her body until his lips met hers, this time, in a proper kiss. Phoebe’s hands had buttoned her skirt back and covered her belly with a top before they returned on Michael’s neck, without breaking the kiss.

They have been breathing into each other’s mouths when they eventually pulled away, both in need of something more than just kissing.

At that moment Phoebe realised she was slowly falling for the man who did not only saved her but accepted her the way she was, who respected her and the boundaries she set.

It crossed Michael’s mind to get rid of his clothes and rip off hers as his desire for her was getting out of hand. To make all the fantasies he had with her real and make her feel as if she was the only girl in the world.

That was what he wanted.

That was also what she wanted, but she could not let that happen, not just yet. Not before she really got to know him. She was cautious, maybe even too cautious, but she had to protect herself from falling hard for the wrong man.

It was too late for that, anyway. Deep inside she knew, she fell hard for him the moment he kissed her scars. No one had ever done that before. No one had ever accepted that flaw of her, because other men did not want to know the burden she was carrying with her.

No one really wanted to know what she was dealing with. Except for him.

“Mike?” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you. No one has ever done so much for me as you did.”

“Anything for you,” he smiled at her lightly and when she nestled up against him, he had made sure she fell asleep before he let himself get some rest, too.

* * *

They did not sleep much as around eight Phoebe’s phone rang, waking them both at once. She freed herself from Michael’s embrace and searched for the source of noise on her nightstand then, without even checking who was that she picked up.

“Yes?” she mumbled, half-sleeping, but quickly she woke up completely when she realized it was her boss calling. “Wait, what? I’m fired? Why?” she asked. “It’s not fair, Mr Moore. I... It’s not my fault your son has been calling me... Please, wait—” Phoebe wanted him to listen to her explanation, but apparently, her boss knew his own truth and hang up, cutting her off before she could say anything more in her defence.

“What’s going on?” Michael asked sleepily then sat up. “You seem upset.”

“Ugh, I forgot to mention you that the guy that was calling me yesterday is the son of the cafe owner I work on,” she replied, brushing her hair back with both of her hands. "He just called to fire me, because apparently, Joe didn’t like the fact you had picked up my phone and told him off yesterday. Dickhead...” She shook her head slowly. Then, with the dejected tone she added: “Fuck, Mike, I liked that job.”

“Did he really say all that?”

“No." She sighed. "I'm sure it's Joe's fault, though."

"You’ll find a better one, Phoebe.” Michael tried to cheer her up. “The one where they will treat with deserved respect, not where the owner listens to his frustrated son.”

“If I fail, I’ll join my friend at Vanilla Unicorn,” Phoebe joked, but Michael was far from laughing at it; his face became grumpy and he eyed Phoebe, letting her know he did not approve that.

“That's not an option,” he blurted. “I don’t want any other guy to touch you.”

“You don’t want that?” She chuckled as she sat at the edge of the bed. “I’m just playing with you,” she added when she turned around and looked at him. “I only let you touch me, don’t worry.”

Michael looked down, feeling angry at himself for letting his emotions take control over him. He did not want to seem like the jealous and possessive type in front of her, but at the same time, he knew it was just the way he was. Jealous. Possessive. He did not want any other guy to look at her with desire, not mentioning flirting or touching her. He wanted her to be exclusively his.

The question was, was he able to be exclusively hers? What if his demands were too high and he was not able to give her the same things he wanted from her?

“I’m not worrying,” he said in his defence. “I just think you should be careful. There are plenty of different jobs. Safer ones.”

“I know, Mike." Phoebe winked at him then crawled on her fours to him. “You don’t have to be jealous.” She left a peck on his cheek and at the same time, someone knocked on the doors.

It had not been long before Phoebe’s heard her friend’s voice when the doors opened and seconds later, Amy entered her place. She stopped when she realised Phoebe was not alone and she could have ruined the moment.

“Pheebs—oh crap, I didn’t know you have a guest,” she said then backed off while Phoebe nervously got off Michael’s lap. He was quickly buttoning the first two buttons of his shirt and the whole scene looked as if they were caught red-handed on doing god-knows-what.

“You could’ve waited until I opened the goddamn doors,” Phoebe hissed. “Apparently, giving you the spare key was a mistake.”

“Oh come on, it’s not like you two were having sex or something...” Amy smiled awkwardly and both Phoebe and Michael looked angrily. “Alright, I should’ve waited outside.”

“Exactly,” Phoebe agreed and went to grab some fresh clothes from her closet. "Since you, Amy, already ruined the moment Michael and I had, I’m gonna go and take a quick shower. The morning did not begin well, either. I lost my job,” she said and walked past Amy. She entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

“Wait, what?” Amy asked surprised. "What job?”

“She got fired this morning,” Michael replied for Phoebe. “Ten minutes ago, actually.”

“What happened?” The blonde woman asked then leaned her right arm against the wall of Phoebe’s bedroom.

Michael was looking at her, at the tight black skirt and matching top she was wearing, trying to remind himself whether he had seen her before.

“Some guy named Joe did,” he explained. “He kept calling her the last evening and she wasn’t really pleased about it.”

“Oh, so you two were together yesterday,” Amy marked.

“Yes, we were,” Michael confirmed. “Well, I might've answered one of his calls and told him off, but I didn’t think this prick would do something like that.”

“I knew it,” the woman laughed. “You’re the guilty one.”

“Excuse me?"

“Listen up, Michael.” Amy looked at him, “I know how guys like you act. The scheme is simple - you want her, you fuck her and then you leave her.” Her tone was nearly accusing. “So, step back before you’re gonna break my best friend’s heart.”

“Amy,” Michael said while he put on his shoes, “I have no intention in hurting your best friend because I really like her. I’ve heard you're aware of my reputation.” He stood up and faced the woman. “However, I don’t act the way you think. Not anymore, at least.”

“Come on, you really think I’m gonna believe that?” she puffed. “We both know it ain’t true. I don’t know what you're trying to achieve, spending so much time with her, acting as if you cared about her while I’m pretty sure you simply want to use her. I mean, a guy like you with a woman like her? She’s too good for you.” Amy shook her head slowly. “You don’t deserve her and you know it.”

“You're right, but somehow she still wants me around,” Michael smirked. “I know you’re doing it all to protect her, but you don’t have to. It’s not your call to make.”

“Phoebe will see through her eyes,” Amy said cockily. “I’ll make sure she will sooner than later, so I spare her some pain.”

Michael chuckled and shook his head in disapproval. “Don’t you want your friend’s happiness?”

“Of course, I want that,” she fired back. “I just don’t think you’re the one to give her what she needs. I’m not sure a man like you is capable of truly loving anyone.”

“You don’t know me,” he replied, “so, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t have to know you to have an idea who you are. All I needed to do was ask the hookers,” she responded calmly.

“Oh, I see you two are getting along,” Phoebe said ironically as she went out of the bathroom, drying her hair with a towel. “I was gone for 5 minutes and you already jumped at each other’s throats.”

“We’re just chatting,” Amy turned towards her friend. “Michael told me about Joe. I’m so sorry, Pheebs,” she added. "I'm sure you'll find something better."

“Here’s hoping,” she responded. “In all that mess I forgot to ask you what happened? It’s not like you to visit me this early.”

“I wanted to talk, you know, girls stuff.” Amy glared at Michael. "It’s not that important, though.” “I see,” Phoebe nodded. “I’m gonna call you later, okay? I have to go and pick up my things from Cafe Redemption and get it over with.”

“I’ll give you a ride,” Michael offered, trying to get out of this awkward situation. "Let's go, shall we?"


	7. It's Your Day

“What happened between you and Amy?” Phoebe asked when she got into Michael’s tailgater a few minutes later. "You two seemed nervous when I returned."

“It's no big deal,” Michael replied calmly then, he turned on the engine. “It seems we simply don’t like each other much.”

“Do you have something against her?”

“No, why would I? She, on the other hand, definitely has something against me,” he said briefly as he did not want to continue this conversation. “So, our next stop is Café Redemption?”

“Yeah," she confirmed then let the silence fill the car, realising Michael was not in a mood to talk.

The road from Phoebe's place to Café Redemption felt like an eternity for Michael. The atmosphere was somehow ruined between them and when she turned her head to look through the car window, he knew something was wrong. When they stopped at the red light he looked at her, realising was wearing a dark blue polo dress. She looks lovely, Michael thought, but the sadness at her face was disturbing.

“What’s wrong, gorgeous?” he asked eventually and she turned towards him at the sound of his voice.

“I’m a little bit down because of that goddamn work, Mike,” she explained and nervously bit her bottom lip. “I need a job and I lost that one because of some stupid brat... Oh, and I wish you and Amy got along, too.”

“She and I will get along at some point, don’t worry.” Michael’s right hand moved onto Phoebe’s tight and caressed the inner side of it. “Everything’s gonna be alright, you know?”

“Isn’t that a little bit cheesy? Everything’s gonna be alright?" She smirked then shook her head slowly. "We both know life doesn't work like that.”

“Trust me, it's gonna be alright."

A moment later, Michael stopped his car in front of the cafe and Phoebe sighed loudly. He smiled warmly at her, but apparently, her mood was still far from good as she looked down, trying to avoid his sight. For some time she was sitting like that, gathering her thoughts and then she eventually looked up at him. A gentle smile appeared on her face and she placed her left hand on his right, that was still placed on her thigh.

“It’ll only take a minute,” she stated then got out of the car. “You don’t even have to turn off the engine.”

“Take your time,” Michael told her and when she closed the car door, he noticed her phone was left on the passenger seat. He was watching her disappear inside the building then his eyes went back to her phone. To Michael’s misfortune, it started ringing a few seconds after she had left. Damn, Michael murmured under his breath and peeked who was calling her.

**Dan**.

What could possibly her brother want from her? He kept calling her for 10 minutes without any

longer break than 10 seconds between his calls. What was so damn urgent he could not wait until Phoebe would call him back?

“Fuck you, Joe!”

Michael heard Phoebe shouting and immediately got out of his car, slamming the car door behind his back. He saw her struggling with a man who had gripped her arm and did not want to let her go.

“You prefer some old prick instead of me?” he growled at Phoebe. “I should’ve known a girl like you only care about money!”

“You’re insane!” Phoebe fired back. “You know what? Go to hell, Joe!”  
“Hey, douche!” Michael fumed as he angrily pushed Joe away from Phoebe. “Let her go, now.”

“Let her go? Who do you think you are, old man?” Joe asked, letting go of Phoebe's arm and clenching his fists, ready to fight.

“Say another word and I can be your worst nightmare!” Michael yelled and was about to punch him when Phoebe got between them with her arms spread out.

“Enough!” she exclaimed and turned towards Michael. “He ain’t worth it, Mike.”

“I ain't worth it? You’re a pathetic little whore and I wish I'd known it earlier!" Joe exclaimed and that was then Michael lost his temper. He passed Phoebe and got to Joe, pinning him by the throat against the nearest wall.

“What did you call her?” he asked, tightening his grip. The man was running out of breath and he choked out a few words that Michael did not understand. “Can’t hear you, pal."

“N-nothing,” Joe stammered as Michael loosened his grip a bit. “I’m s-sorry.”

"What?"

"I... I'm s-sorry."

"Michael..." He heard Phoebe's scared voice coming from behind his back. He did not want to scare her, but he also did not want anyone to offend her as Joe did.

“Very well,” Michael said then withdrew his hand, backing off slowly. “Now get out of my sight!"

Joe shook his head nervously, gasping for air and touching his bruised neck. He hissed painfully as he touched the places Michael’s hand had been a moment ago then hurried inside the building, without looking back.

Phoebe was standing aside and even though, she knew Michael did it to protect her, she was still in shock. She swallowed loudly and stepped towards him, grabbed his hand again and lead him back to his car. When they were far enough from prying eyes of disturbed customers, she looked at him questioningly.

“It wasn't necessary,” she said quietly.

“Wasn't it?" Michael asked. "He called you a whore and you expected me to let it go?” Michael marked.

“I don't know,” she replied. "I know I don't want you to get in trouble because of me." "I won't get in trouble," he assured her. "Got everything you needed?"

"Yes."

“Good. I think we won’t be welcomed for some time.”

Good, Phoebe thought to herself. I have no intention to go back there ever again. She put her stuff down on the backseat then sat on the passenger seat, realising her phone was blowing up with notifications. She began scrolling through them and sighed, seeing dozens of unanswered calls from her brother.

“Your phone started ringing the moment you left the car,” Michael told her, turning on the engine. “It’s your brother, isn’t it?”

“I wonder what he wants,” she murmured and decided to call him back. After a few signals, Dan picked up. “What do you want?” she hissed, but after a moment her face turned from angry to confused. “What? Are you kidding me? Sure, I’ll be there.”

She hung up and for a while, she was blankly staring ahead, processing everything she heard over the phone. Then, she turned to Michael, who was watching her with his eyes wide open, and quietly asked:

“Could you take me to the hospital?"

* * *

The irony of life is that when one thing goes down, the other ones will likely follow.

This time, it was no different.

Michael was thinking about it when he was waiting for Phoebe in the hospital corridor with his back leaned against the white wall.

He hated hospitals. He hated how sterile they were and in the air, he could smell this specific scent that hard to describe but also hard to mistake with anything else. If someone had ever visited this place, it would be hard not to get familiar with it.

The minutes felt like hours, but thanks to that, he had more time to think about everything that happened during the past weeks.

To think about Phoebe.

Michael watched her as she was sitting by her mother, holding her weak hand in hers. Phoebe was not crying, but when she turned around, searching for his comfort, he could see she was at the edge of it. The state she saw her mother in was heartbreaking for her.

Phoebe was a good person, Michael had no doubts about that. She made him want to become a better man himself and change the ways he was living for her. If a change was a price to pay for being with her, he was ready for it. He shocked himself with that statement because he had never thought he would be able to change. For years, he had been stuck in a toxic marriage and lost any hope he would feel anything real for another woman ever again.

All his side relationships were about sex. They were shallow and meaningless while whatever he had with Phoebe was different because she was different than any other woman he was seeing.

When she was smiling at him, he felt like a different person. When she was kissing him, it felt like heaven. She was someone he never thought he would meet in his life. He was watching her and wondered what did he do to deserve her.

“Hey, man.” Michael looked at the man who had approached him, immediately guessing who he was. “You’re here with my sister, right?”

“That’s right,” he replied and took a closer look at the stranger.

It would not be possible for Phoebe to deny it was her brother. They were too damn similar. Her brother also had dark hair and eyes, but his body was ruined by the drugs and it was visible. The dark circles around his bloodshot eyes and sunken cheeks were telling his story pretty clear. “You must be Daniel.”

“Was she telling you about me?” Daniel snorted. “That’s something new."

“Considering what you did to her I’m surprised she’s still able to say your name out loud and answer your calls.”

“Listen, man, I don’t know what exactly she told you,” Dan said, "but I would never hurt her on purpose, she’s my sister and I love her even if she hates me.” He had paused for a minute before he asked: “What’s your name?”

“Michael."

“Michael... You shouldn't judge people this fast, especially when you know only one side of the story."

Michael did not know what to response; he did not know whether he wanted to punch Dan for what he did to Phoebe or tell him he was sorry. There was a chance Dan was not as bad as he thought he was. His life was destroyed by addiction that was slowly killing him and everyone he loved. Michael looked at him with pity and at the same moment, Phoebe walked out from the hospital room. She froze, seeing him and her brother together, but brushed off this weird feeling and approached them a second later.

“What happened to mom?” she asked, sending Daniel a glare. “What did you do to her?” “It's not my fault, Phoebe,” he fired back. “She overdosed alcohol, not drugs.”

“Nothing's ever your fault, Dan,” she said bitterly. “Why did they bring her here? Wasn’t the medical centre in Sandy Shores closer?”

“She wanted to see you,” Dan explained. “We’ve been in Los Santos for a few days and wanted to pay you a visit, hoping you would eventually talk to us.”

He looked down at his watch and after a short pause, he added: “It’s your day, right? Not the best you could wish for, but...”

"Wait, what day?" Michael asked, looking at them both questioningly.

“Dan, it’s not a good moment...” Phoebe said and before she could explain, Dan added: “Happy 31st birthday, sis.”

* * *

“Why didn’t you tell me about your birthday?” Michael questioned when they left the hospital a few minutes later.

“It’s been a rough day, Mike. It must’ve slipped out of my mind," she replied shortly.

“If you told me, I would get you a gift or something,” he marked.

“I’m sorry things turned out this way, okay? I didn’t plan any of them.”

“It’s not your fault,” Michael replied and embraced her. She rested her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around, holding him tight. “The day is not over yet.”

“You’re telling me there’s more of this terrible day?” she laughed humorlessly. “I don’t think I have the strength to face anything more today. I’m tired and hungry,” she added. "The vision of coming back here in the morning to check on my mom and Dan isn't really helping."

Michael freed himself from her embrace and opened the door of his car for her. “I happen to have food and bed at my place too,” he said and before Phoebe could hesitate, he added: "Let me make your day a little bit better."

“I don't have much to say, right?” Phoebe sighed but was not opposing, knowing she would not convince Michael to drive her home. Besides, the thought of spending an evening with him was very appealing.

"You don't."

They had been driving for a couple of minutes before they reached Michael’s mansion and this time, there was no one there except them. Michael parked in front of the garage and then they walked inside, directing their steps straight to the kitchen.

“You’re cooking for me tonight?” Phoebe asked, sitting on the chair next to the kitchen island. “You wish,” Michael laughed and opened up the fridge. “Eva prepared us something to eat. Hope you like quesadillas?”

“Who is Eva?”

“She’s my maid,” he responded. “You don’t have to be jealous...” “Believe me or not, I’m not jealous,” she winked at him.

She watched Michael placing a plate in front of her and then he opened up the wine, pouring some into the glasses. He handed one out to her and when they clicked their glasses, she smiled, taking a sip of sweet liquid. A moment later, they began eating, both of them hungry as it was their first meal since yesterday evening when they were eating together in Hearty Taco. Soon, their plates became empty and so was the bottle of wine, making their moods slightly better.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, feeling his eyes set on her. She looked at him and their eyes met in a gaze.

“You’re beautiful,” he responded after a moment. “I’m sure many guys have told you that before.”

“Not as many as you think,” she told him and put the empty glass away. “Not only for the compliment but also for not letting me be alone tonight.”

“Pleasure is mine,” Michael smirked, “pleasure is all mine.”

She smiled shyly in response, so he decided to ask one more thing: “So, what’s your birthday wish?”

“I don't have any."

"Come on, gorgeous, I'm sure there is something you want."

"A kiss would be nice," she blurted.

“A kiss?” Michael asked and his left hand wandered on her knee.

“Yes, a kiss,” she confirmed and began playing with the collar of his shirt.

"I can do that," he chuckled then leaned down slightly, pressing his lips against hers. She tasted like wine, sweet and bitter at the same time. She returned the kiss, giving in completely. Her hands were wandering on his neck, her fingers were stroking his jawline while he picked her up and, without breaking the kiss, he carried her to the living room. He carefully sat down on the couch with her and that was when she pulled away, leaning her forehead against his and breathing into his mouth.

"I could get used to that," she said.

"Me either," Michael replied and went for another, quick kiss. "Want to... Want to watch a movie or--"

"Movie sounds perfect," Phoebe interrupted, "but I have to warn you, I might fall asleep during watching."

"It's fine," he told her and went to pick a movie from his collection while she curled up on the couch. "You cold?"

"Tired," she replied and reached out for a pillow to rest her head against. "What's your choice?"

"Sunset Boulevard," he responded then walked to grab a blanket from the other side of the couch. He covered Phoebe with it then took a seat beside her. The woman smiled slightly, then placed a pillow and her head on his thighs, making herself comfortable on his couch.

"That's nice."

The movie started, but Micheal could not focus on it. He had seen this movie many times before and loved it, but this time, all his attention was drawn to her. Phoebe. She fell asleep a few minutes later, drained from energy, but he kept caressing her head until, at some point, his eyes closed, too.


	8. Things We Do For Family

A few hours later, Phoebe lazily opened up her eyes and quickly realised she was snuggled up against Michael. His right arm was wrapped around her waist as they two fell asleep on his couch the previous evening. From what she could remember they were watching some old movie, but she could not remind herself the title - she was too tired and too occupied by Michael's presence by her side than what was happening on the screen.

The last thing she wanted was to get up, to get rid of the blanket Michael had covered her with and the warmth of his body next to hers, but at the same time, she knew she had to get up. She promised Daniel she would come and check on their mother in the morning, so staying with Michael, no matter how tempting, was not an option.

Phoebe took a moment to free herself out of Michael’s embrace - she gently pushed him on the back and left a small peck on his cheek. A slight smile appeared on man's face and she felt a warm feeling in her heart. She kept watching him sleeping calmly and wished this moment would last forever.

Since her father died she had been feeling empty for most of the time. It was like the piece of her heart was ripped out when he passed away years ago. It was not like she did not try to fill that void, but it never seemed to work. No one was able to make her feel something real, something that could fill the empty space in her heart. Every relation seemed so forced, but with Michael, no matter how weird that sounded, it felt natural. Like it was meant to be.

Phoebe did not believe in destiny, though. She believed every action had a consequence, so people were mostly responsible for things that happened to them. Mostly, because still, there were things she could not explain. One of them was how she and Michael met, but in the end, she did not an explanation for that.

What matter was that she was happy. For the first time in years, she could not stop smiling from ear to ear. She was feeling like a teenage girl who has just begun dating her first, very real boyfriend and everything she experienced with him was purely magical, so she wanted to get the most of every second she got to spend with him.

“Good morning,” he said sleepily when Phoebe moved carefully, trying to get up from the couch. She immediately stopped at the sound of his voice as if she was caught red-handed. “Leaving so early?"

“I told you I promised Dan I would go and check on mom in the morning," she replied. "I wish I could stay with you. I really do."

"So stay with me,” he stated, taking her left hand in his. "I'll give you a ride or you can take my car yourself. Either way, you have more time for me."

“You trust me enough to let me drive your car? Your baby?” Phoebe asked and laid down beside him on her side.

"Baby?" Michael repeated amused. "I admit, I really like my car, but I don't call it my baby," he added.

"Weird," Phoebe replied. "I've always thought it's man thing to call a car baby," she explained and sat back down on the couch.

"Not in my case," he countered. "So, the keys are on the kitchen table, but say a word and I'll give you a ride."

"Noted."

As they were sitting next to each other, Phoebe reached out for Michael's left hand and took a closer look at the inner side, where she had stitched him two days ago.

“It already looks much better,” she stated, seeing his wound was healing well.

"I had the best doctor taking care of me," Michael said, making her smile shyly.

"Well, try not to cut your hand too often," Phoebe replied.

"No promises," he joked. "I like the way your hand fit in mine. It's so tiny and delicate," he added, tangling his fingers with hers.

"Yours is big and rough," she countered, "but I like the way it feels on mine."

Michael smiled gently, bringing her hand to his lips. He began kissing her knuckles, one by one, when out of sudden, a high pitched voice reached their ears.

“Hell—Daddy? What are you—who’s she?”

Phoebe turned around rapidly and saw a young girl dressed in a bright pink dress that way too short for her, with blonde hair and visibly smudged mascara around her eyes. She was looking at her father and Phoebe cautiously, connecting the facts in her head.

“Why...What is she doing here?" The girl kept asking.

“Tracey, please, don’t make a scene right now— Where the hell have you been the whole night, by the way?” Michael moved away from Phoebe and was about to start lecturing his daughter, but interrupted him.

“I’m an adult!” she exclaimed. “I don't have to explain myself to you when I come back home after a party! You’re the one who brings some hooker to our house! If mom...”

“Don’t bring your mother into this!”

“The way I see it, you two need to talk,” Phoebe stated, using the sudden appearance of Michael’s daughter as the opportunity to leave. "I'll take the car, Mike."

"Call me if you need me," he added and then returned to arguing with his daughter.

Who does she think she is? Trace, calm down... Had been the last words that reached Phoebe’s ears before she left, taking the car keys on her way out. She hurried to Michael's Tailgater then got inside, feeling this weird excitement inside. It had been a while since the last time she drove, but she had always loved being a driver. Back in the days, she and her father used to go on long road trips, listening to their favourite songs and enjoying the endless roads ahead of them and even though her father was not there anymore, the love remained the same. So, she turned on the engine and when the car started, she focused on the road.

* * *

“Dan, wake up,” Phoebe said then shook her brother’s arm when she arrived at the hospital sometime later.

“What-what’s going on? What time is it?” he blurted and sat up, rubbing his eyes with inner sides of his hands. The man was sleeping on the sofa, in the corner of the hall and did not notice her coming. It was way too early for him to wake up, especially since he fell not so long ago.

“It’s almost 9 in the morning." She sat down beside him. “How is mom feeling?”

“She’s fine. She woke up in the middle of the night, but quickly fell asleep again,” Dan replied then yawn loudly. "How was the birthday celebration? I can feel you had a good night, sis.”

“Oh, shut up,” she told him. “I’m here for mom. I wouldn’t even be talking to you if I didn’t have to.”

“Phoebe...”

“Don’t even start. Nothing annoys me as much as your empty apologies. I’ve already forgiven you, but I’ll never forget what you did to me. To mom. To our family.”

Dan looked down, biting his bottom lip tensely. He had made many mistakes in his life, but hurting his sister the way he did was something much worse. He lost his sister and it was all because of his recklessness. He ruined everything and he also hated himself for what he had done to her.

However, he could not turn back time, no matter how badly he wanted to do that.

“She asked about you. You know, mom,” he said after a while. “I told her you were there to see her and you were doing alright. I also mentioned your new boyfriend to her and she seemed pretty excited about it.”

“It's not my boy--I want to see mom,” Phoebe stated, trying not to get carried away by her emotions. She was there for her mother, so her brother and his remarks could go to hell. “Is she awake?”

“Don't know,” Dan replied and rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt. “Go and check it out yourself.”

Phoebe puffed in response. She got up then passed him by, directing her steps to the hospital room where her mother was. She silently closed the doors then approached the hospital bed, looking at the older woman carefully. She has not changed much since the last time Phoebe saw her. She was still the same woman she remembered. Her mother, Mary Harris. The only thing that changed was that there were more grey hairs among the dark brown ones. She looked exhausted when she slowly opened up her green eyes and looked at Phoebe who had just sat at the edge of the mattress.

“Hi, mom,” she spoke first and felt her mother’s left hand squeezing her right.

“Hi, baby,” the woman said weakly. “Happy birthday and... I'm so sorry--"

“It’s okay," Phoebe cut her off. "How are you feeling?”

“I’m better,” she admitted. “I'm feeling much better now. How about you, sunshine?"

“I’m good,” Phoebe replied. "Let’s skip the small talk, alright? I know you two came here for a reason and I feel it wasn’t my birthday,” she had paused before she continued: “So, what is it?”

“Phoebe...”

“Mom. Please," she insisted.

The woman sighed deeply and bit her bottom lip, searching for the right words. “It’s about Dan,” she started. “He's in trouble, Phoebe.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“Do you remember that man from Sandy Shores? Ron?” Phoebe nodded in response, so her mother continued. “After you had moved out, we were... We were having some financial problems. Dan was dealing again and one day, he bumped into Ron and his, I don’t know, boss? What was his name... Trevor?”

“Trevor... Trevor Philips?” “Yes.”

“Mom...”

“Dan made a deal with him. He agreed to sell the stuff he was providing him with and it was working, Phoebe. It was working, I swear, but about a month ago someone stole the drugs Dan was going to sell... It was some expensive stuff and when Trevor found out, he got mad. He threatened he would kill Dan if he won’t get the money. He owes him 10,000 dollars...”

“Is this some kind of silly joke?" Phoebe could feel her throat run dry and her heart beating faster. “Mom, for fuck’s sake, that's a lot.!

“I know... I know, honey. We were trying to get them, but...”

“You’re fucking addicts! That’s what you are, mom! Where is he?” Phoebe got up rapidly and hurried towards the doors. He found her brother leaning against the wall on the other side. “What have you done, you fool?” she snapped at him then grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him inside the hospital room. “Have you both lost your minds?" She felt her knees weaken, so she leaned against the frame of the hospital bed. “Tell me you two are joking.”

“Do I look as if I was joking?” Dan asked. “Does mom look as if she was joking? Maybe if you didn’t leave back then, we wouldn’t be in trouble right now!”

“We? No, no, don’t drag me into this, Dan and don’t make me feel guilty for it! I’ve told you hundred times, stay away from Trevor fucking Philips, but no! You smelled the money and you ran to him like a dog, because you wouldn’t survive if you stopped taking goddamn drugs! You two are crazy, that’s why I left! You keep blaming everyone, but not yourselves for the things that happen to you. It’s your fault, not mine!”

“Phoebe, calm down... We need your help,” her mother said softly. “It’s not your fault, but we need you. If not for Dan... Do it for me.”

“What should I do? Should I give you 10,000 dollars? Oh, sorry, but I don’t have it!” “No,” Mary shook her head. “You could you talk to Trevor... Dan told me you and him...”

“Talk?” Phoebe repeated in disbelief. “Mom, do you hear yourself? You’re asking me to talk to him after everything he did to us? You should’ve stayed away from him in the first place! If it wasn’t for him, Dan wouldn’t look like this! You wouldn’t have started drinking and maybe dad would still be alive!”

“If you don’t want to talk with Trevor, you could ask your boyfriend for a small loan,” Dan spoke

from the corner of the room. “It’s obvious he’s loaded.”

“I won’t be asking him for anything, understood? It’s not his business and I won’t drag him into this shit,” Phoebe brushed her hair back and closed her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts. “Are you two really that desperate? Oh, don’t answer it. You are, coming all the way from Sandy Shores here, just to ask me to get you out of that mess! You probably don’t care, but I lost my job yesterday. Literally yesterday, so I won’t be able to give you the money.”

“So talk to Trevor,” her mothers said. “Just talk--”

“Alright,” Phoebe interrupted her, wanting this conversation to end. “I’ll do it for you, but that’s it, mom. No more favours afterwards, " Phoebe added, feeling her throat clench. “Where can I find Trevor?”

“Ron told me he’s the boss at Vanilla Unicorn now,” Daniel replied. “Phoebe, we...”

“Don’t. As I said, there’s no we. We ended the moment you stabbed me with that bottle,” she cut him off.

"Phoebe..." Her mother wanted to intervene, but Phoebe did not want to listen to them anymore. “Take care, mom.” She turned to her mother. “You deserve better than this.”

“Maybe one day...”

“Maybe, mom.”

Phoebe spoke her last words then left the hospital room, hurrying outside, so no one could stop her on the way out. Her head was spinning as she went outside, realising her life was an endless cycle of disasters. Whenever she thought she managed to leave her past behind, it was coming at her again from around the corner. What was worse, this time, she was about to face and remind himself to the person who had begun the cycle years ago.

Trevor _fucking_ Philips.

* * *

The loud music was playing loud and a few scantily dressed girls were wandering around Trevor and Michael while they sat down by the table at Vanilla Unicorn later the same day. After a rough argument with his daughter, Michael had to cool off a little and since he knew Phoebe was visiting her mother and brother in the hospital, he decided to talk to the only person who could possibly understand him and his struggles.

“So, you two are still hooking up?” Trevor asked, taking a sip of his drink. “She must be something then."

“She definitely is something,” Michael replied and tapped his finger against the table. "I wish Trace would be more understanding, you know? I had to move on eventually...”

“Maybe she thought you would find yourself, I don’t know, someone your age?” Trevor laughed deeply. “I’m not judging you, though. She must look sweet with your cock in her mouth, so innocent and all,” he taunted and Michael glared at him.

“You’re obscene,” Michael said in almost accusing tone. “And you’re all saint now, huh?” Trevor countered.

“No, but there is more than sex,” Michael explained. “I think... I really like her.”

“You really like her?” Trevor looked at his friend in disbelief. “Come on! Have you told her the truth about what had happened back then?”

“No, but it’s just because I’m protecting her...”

“Protecting her from what? The truth?” Trevor shook his head. "If you’re protecting anyone, it’s you, not her. You can’t protect anyone, but yourself, Mikey.”

“Now you’re gonna lecture me, T?” Michael snorted. “I didn’t ask for your advice on that matter. I don’t even know why you care so much about it.”

"She has the right to know the truth,” Trevor paused for a moment. “You can’t do that to people. You can’t keep lying to them because you think it’s better for them! You don’t know if that's better!” Trevor yelled and smashed his fist against the table, spilling Michael’s drink on it. “You think you changed, but you didn’t. You’re the same old, selfish prick I’ve known for almost my entire life.”

“Some things are better left unsaid,” Michael replied and looked down. "Sometimes they bring more harm than use.”

“Yeah, but you know what's worse than harm? Finding out the truth years later,” Trevor said and his friend could hear the pain in his voice. “Anyway, why do I care? Cheetah!” he shouted to one of the girls and when she approached her, he continued: “Bring me another drink, sweetheart.”

“Trevor, I appreciate your concern...”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Trevor interrupted him. “You’re so full of shit, Mikey. You never learn and you’ll end up alone. Not because you’re insane, but because you’re a liar.”

“You’re wrong,” Michael replied the same moment Cheetah put a drink for Trevor on the table.

“Whatever you say,” Trevor replied and grabbed the blonde girl by the hand. “Sweetheart, what about short dance for this grumpy cat in front of us? He could definitely use some kind of distraction.” He sent Michael a wink.

“No, I'm good,” Michael said when the stripper approached him from behind and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Why?” she purred when she leaned down to his ear. “I think I could make you feel even better,” she whispered and Michael felt his body shiver at the sound of her seductive voice.

“Don't push me, Cheetah,” he said more firmly.

“Suit yourself.” The girl shrugged then walked away, leaving them in two.

“No more hookers? Acting as if you had morals? That’s... That’s not like you,” Trevor marked after a moment.

“Yeah, that's not like me,” Michael confirmed, “but I really want to do it right this time, T. I want to try--”

“Boss, someone is waiting for you outside,” one of the bodyguards said when he the table they were sitting at. “It seems to be an urgent matter.”

“Can’t you see I’m busy right now? Tell them to come later or not at all.” “But...”

“But what? Wade!” Trevor growled and the man whose name he was shouting ran to him in no time. “Someone is waiting outside. Find out what they want then come back to me.”

“Yes, T-Trevor.”

He and Michael were sitting in silence for a moment only exchanging a few glances in the meantime when suddenly Ron came back with the pieces of information Trevor wanted him to get.

“I think you’ll want to talk to her, Trevor,” he said, catching his breath. “It’s-it’s that girl you told me about a few days ago.”

Trevor did not react at first. His fingers tapped the glass and he raised up his head slowly, looking at Wade with this ominous smile of his. Trevor let out a small chuckle, confusing both Michael and Wade then downed what was left of his drink.

“In that case, I can’t let her wait.”


	9. Hello, Old Friend

_I will never run from the past_ , Phoebe thought while she was walking down the corridor that was leading to Trevor’s office in Vanilla Club. The last thing she wanted to do was meet with him, but at the same time, she felt as if she was still responsible for her brother and if she could help him (even if that included meeting Trevor), she wanted to try. She knew the risk of meeting with him, but she did it anyway. The door of his office opened and she stopped up in front of her old friend (the one she wished she had forgotten) in worn-out grey joggers and the t-shirt that once upon a time was white.

“I knew I'd seen you before, _doll_ ," he scoffed when he saw her.

“Trevor,” she spoke his name softly and he smiled at the sound of it. “Remember me?”

“How could I forget you, Phoebe? Though, I have to admit it took me a while to remind myself where I’d seen such pretty face before.” He stood up from the chair then walked around his desk to lean against the front of it. “It was years ago when we saw each other for the last time. I’m quite sure your hair was lighter and you were thicker the last time I saw you,” he marked.

“Should I take it as a compliment?” she puffed.

“Darker hair suits you better, but I liked you thicker. It’s just my personal preference, though,” he responded.

When Phoebe did not reply, he added: “Anyway, how’s Daniel?”

“You tell me,” she replied. “How much did he mess up this time?"

“Pretty much,” Trevor cleared his throat. “No offence, but your brother is such a coward.”

“Hard not to agree,” she faked a smile. "However, I didn’t come to you to talk about who my brother is. It wasn’t the main reason, at least. I came to you because I need a favour.”

“A favour?"

“I don't know what you're planning, but please, don't do him much harm,” she specified. “He’s such a fool, but you should know it by now. It wasn’t the first time you were working with him."

"Your brother asked for this particular job, but he fucked it up. Are you implying I should let him go away with it just like that? You know I’m not that kind of a man, sweetheart,” Trevor replied calmly.

“So, what you’re gonna do about it?”

“I don't know yet,” he answered shortly, “but you can help me make up my mind.”

Phoebe swallowed loudly, feeling well where it was going. She did not know why she was still doing it, but despite all her brother had done to her, she was ready to make a pact with the devil to save his dumb ass. No matter how much she hated him, she was still feeling responsible for him (even if it was a very odd kind of responsibility).

"Can I?” she questioned and made a step towards Trevor. “What do you want, Trevor?” “Let me think,” replied, keeping his eyes locked on her.

“Trevor?” she hurried him.

"I just thought of the night we got to spend together. I had to admit no one has ever kissed me as you did, even if I don't remember everything precisely," he said eventually. "You know, meth."

"I was going through some shit back then," Phoebe stated, tilting her head to the side. "You knew how wasted I was, but you did nothing to stop it," she added, her tone bitter and pretentious.

“Why would I stop it? You wanted that, Phoebe. I didn’t kiss you, you kissed me," Trevor countered. "I wonder how far we would've gone if we weren't interrupted by your brother."

“I guess we will never know,” she told him, having a feeling what he was going to say next.

“Why?"

“Just because,” she replied. "Helping Daniel isn't worth it."

“If you say so,” Trevor shrugged. “One more kiss and I’ll forget about what your brother did.” He came closer to Phoebe and she backed off instinctively.

She felt her heart pounding when Trevor cupped her chin, brushing her bottom lip with his thumb. She was not able to move even though she could have easily pulled him away if she wanted to. It crossed her mind to give in, to do what this crazy psychopath in front of her wanted and get it over it, forgetting about the whole thing. However, quickly she realised, it was not that simple. She did not want to do it, because it was not right. She did not want to sell her body in the name of helping her dumbass brother who would never do the same thing for her. Daniel would never sacrifice that many things as she had sacrificed for him.

“One kiss, Phoebe. That’s all it takes," Trevor encouraged her, but she was not listening.

She thought of Michael and suddenly, everything was clear and the choice was obvious.

“No,” she said loud and clear. Then, she brushed off Trevor hand off her chin. “Go to hell.”

There was a time when she thought she was willing to do everything for her family, but apparently, this time was over.

_Aren't feelings absurd?_ They made people lose their minds and do things they would never do if they were thinking rationally. Where are feelings, there is no chance of thinking like that and at that moment, Phoebe was not thinking rationally. She was not sure of anything except this one thing: she did not do that to Michael even though he was not there. He would not see anything and probably would never find about it.

“Alright, _doll_ ,” Trevor chuckled then backed off, returning behind his desk. "We could've had a very good time together."

“Maybe," Phoebe shrugged. "I'm not that woman, Trevor."

“It would be easier for you if you were. It's not wise to follow your heart, Phoebe."

“What can you know about following your heart?"

“Nothing,” he said then pulled out a cigarette from the pack that was lying on his desk, “but I know the man you're doing it for and trust me... Michael isn't worth it."

“What do you mean?” she asked, confused by his words. "H-How do you know it's about Michael?"

“Who else would it be? I saw you two together, I ain't blind," he chuckled. "What I want to say is you have no idea who you're sleeping with."

"No offence, but it's not your business."

"Isn't it? I'm giving you a piece of friendly advice, Phoebe! I had no idea you like dating liars, fuckers and cheaters, all in one person." Trevor snorted.

"Even if, why do you care? Jealous?" She folded her arms. "Liars, cheaters, fuckers, they're all still better than you are, Trevor."

“Oh, is that so? Very well.” Trevor stood up rapidly. “Wayne!” he shouted and a few seconds later the man he had called entered the room. “Show Phoebe the way out.”

“There’s no need to. I know the way,” she said as she walked by the man with light brown dreadlocks.

_There was nothing I could do. I’m sorry._

Once Phoebe was outside, she texted Daniel.

Then, she turned her phone off and marched towards Michael's car that she had parked in the back of Vanilla Unicorn and sighed heavily, resting her head against the driver's wheel.

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to run, but she did not know where to. The situation she found herself into was bad, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

She wanted to help her brother, but this time, she was not willing to pay the price for it. For years, she had been putting her family in the first place, but she could not do it any longer. It was one of the rare moments in her life when she thought of herself and made a choice based on her happiness. Not Daniel's. Not her mother's.

Hers.

Nothing had ever felt so good and bad for her at the same time.

* * *

Phoebe had been cruising around Los Santos for an hour, trying to gather her thoughts and calm down before she returned to Michael's mansion, a little bit calmer, but still, dozens thought were going through her mind. She did not think meeting with Trevor would be that hard and all the memories would come back to her at once. She was not prepared for that.

She was not prepared to feel everything at once. Starting from anger, going through grief and ending on this fuzzy feeling inside her belly every time Michael crossed her mind.

She did not agree on Trevor's proposition, because she would not be able to live, knowing she cheated on someone else she cared for. Cheated... _Would it even be cheating if she and Michael were not together?_ However, whatever they were, Phoebe could not do that. Not after everything Michael had done for her.

"You're back," Michael mused when she left the car. "How was it?"

"Not that bad," she replied, throwing him the keys. "This car is amazing, Mike," she said once she reached him, leaving a peck on his cheek. "Father-daughter drama resolved?"

"You wish. She won't be talking to me for days to come." "It can't be that bad."

"Tracey has always kept her mother's side," he marked. "You can't blame her for that."

"I know," Michael sighed, "but I wish she was more understanding. She's my daughter, I would do anything for her, but... I deserve some happiness, too, right?"

"Give her some time," Phoebe told him, taking a step back and squeezing her phone in her hands. "I'll better get going," she added. "I don't want to piss your daughter off even more."

"It's my house, Phoebe. As long as I want you here, Trace has nothing to say," he said, inviting her inside with a gesture of his hand. "Come in," he added, "she's not home, anyway."

"Um, okay," she replied and walked inside, directing her steps to the living room. She fell onto the couch, sighing deeply while Michael disappeared in the kitchen. "What a day, Mike, I don't even know where--" She began talking when a few seconds later, Michael joined her on the couch with a piece of cake in one hand and a small, red gift box in the other. "What's that?"

"You didn't tell me about your birthday yesterday, so I got you something today," he explained, handing her the plate and the box. "Once again, happy birthday."

"You needn't have to," Phoebe said and placed a plate on her knees. She took a gift box in her hands and opened it carefully, letting out a sigh when she saw a beautiful, silver necklace with a small letter P. on it. She did not know what to say, so she kept staring at the piece of jewellery Michael gifted her with.

"Please, don't tell me you don't like it. I spent an hour picking it." Michael laughed nervously at his joke. "Phoebe?"

"How could I not like it? It's beautiful," she replied and looked up at him. "Thank you. Mind helping me put it on?" She handed him the necklace then turned around, brushing her hair aside. While Michael was working on the necklace clasp, she took a bite of the chocolate cake. "You're spoiling me," she said once she swallowed. "I can't remember the last time I got a birthday gift, not mentioning a cake."

"That was my intention, to spoil you," he said when she turned her head back to look at him. "Done," he added after a few seconds.

"It's perfect," she told him, correcting the necklace and fully turning towards him. "I had a shitty day, but you just made it a lot better."

"I'm all ears." Michael moved away from her a little, making himself comfortable on the couch. "You don't want to listen about that. I won't bore you with a family drama."

"You won't bore me," he assured her and when she put down the plate, he pulled her onto his lap. "Talking helps or at least, that's what my therapist says."

"And you agree with him?"

"I think there are better ways to cope," he replied, "but sometimes it's nice to have someone to talk to."

"My brother did something utterly stupid," Phoebe confessed after some time. "He'd asked me to clean his mess, but I refused. I... I didn't feel like helping him, you know? I feel bad I didn't help him, but at the same time... I'm glad I didn't."

"It's not your responsibility to clean up his mess. You shouldn't feel bad about not helping someone who did so many awful things to you."

"But... He's my brother. For years we've been there for each other... I feel as if I was betraying him by denying him my help."

"You're too good, Phoebe." Michael tucked a piece of her hair behind her left ear. "You didn't betray him. You did what was right for you."

"You think so?"

"I do. You're too good to be true," he told her and in response, she initiated the kiss she had been waiting since she saw him on a driveway. She pressed her lips against his, wanting to feel his touch on her. He was not opposing even though he did not expect her to be this eager and needy for him, but he would lie if he said he was not pleased. He was.

He liked the way she was rubbing her against the throbbing bulge in his jeans while remaining glued to his lips. He liked the way her arms were wrapped around his neck when he rolled up her dress to her belly and pulled her skimpy lace panties aside, testing the waters and how far he could go.

Phoebe shifted herself a bit, letting a quiet groan when he slicked his fingers inside. He picked up a pace, adding a thumb to brush her clit and making her lose her mind a moment later. With a spare hand, he helped her to take off her dress then threw it on the floor carelessly. She steadied herself on his shoulders and rested her forehead against his, breathing into his mouth and trying not to moan.

"M-Michael, fuck... Fuck me--"

"Fuck you?" he mused, sliding his fingers out of her and brushing them against her inner thighs. "With pleasure," he added, pulling his wallet out of his jeans back pocket and reaching for a condom. He ripped the plastic packaging and once his pants were yanked down, he gave himself a few strokes then rolled the rubber on.

He wanted to place her on the back, but she stopped him, keeping him in a place.

"I want to be on top," she told him and a second later after she had positioned his member at her entrance, she slid down on his length, making them both groan from the pleasure.

"F-fuck, baby. Keep going just like that," Michael breathed once she picked a slow, steady rhythm. He watched her going up and down, taking his cock almost completely. "G-god... I didn't... I didn't think we would end up like that."

"And... And what did you expect after spoiling me like a child?" Phoebe tilted back her head and hastened her moves, increasing the pleasure even more.

"For the record, I didn't do...I didn't do any of these things... So you would let me fuck you--ugh," he groaned deeply.

"Oh." Slipped out of Phoebe's mouth. "Then for w-what?"

"Why do you have to ask so many questions?" Michael replied with a question then lifted effortlessly as if she did not weight a pound and placed her on the back before she could protest.

He was in control and he loved it. He set up a quick but uneven pace, pounding in her mercilessly from the right angle, so the only thing she was able to do was moan. Her hands ended up on his back and she dug his fingers into his skin as she came, wriggling beneath his weigh and a few seconds later, he joined her, blowing his load inside of her. It was not the end, though. He did not pull out instantly after he reached his peak. Instead, he leaned for a kiss, a lingering one, and she kissed him back, taken aback by this act of tenderness coming from him. Once he finished, he moved down onto her neck and began sucking the sensitive skin over there and leaving bite marks here and there.

A pain mixed with desire made Phoebe stop thinking rationally again and that was when she blurted: "I-I love you."

And it was something Michael did not expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for bearing with me... Sticking with me... Reading... It means a world to me. 😊🤍


	10. The Dark Side Of Fame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say that from this chapter on, there will be more 'new' than 'old' things (from the previous version of the story). I don't know about you, but I feel more comfortable with this new version, which is odd. I hope you like it, too (and rewriting it was worth it, hehe). Hope you all are doing good and staying safe. 😊

“W-what?” Slipped out of Michael’s mouth a second after he had heard Phoebe’s unexpected confession. 

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ Phoebe hurried with an explanation, feeling her cheeks turning dark red, not because of emotions she had just witnessed, but from enormous embarrassment. “I didn’t mean—damn it!” 

“It’s a really poor choice, _sweetheart_ ,” he joked, trying to ease this awkward situation between them, but her words, even if said in a heat of the moment were still ringing in his ears. 

_I love you._

“I didn’t mean it, Michael,” she told him, knowing it was a lie. Well, not a complete truth, at least. She had feelings for Michael, of course, but she did not love him. It was too early to say she did.

It could not be love. 

“I didn’t mean—Can we forget I said that?”

“Phoebe, I—Give me a second,” he said then pulled away from her. 

“Just forget I said that,” she said and buried her face in her hands, trying to cover her dark red cheeks while Michael hobbled out of the room just to come back a few moments later with his pants back on. “Did I completely ruin the moment we had?”

“No, it’s just… I didn’t expect it,” he told her when he sat back on the couch, “and I still think it’s a poor choice even if it flatters me.” 

Phoebe puffed, ignoring his remark. “Can we just—Out of curiosity, why would that be a bad choice?”

“Let’s say,” Michael started, “I’m not a particularly good person to love. I… I’m not even sure if I deserve to be loved.”

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

“You like digging, don’t you?” 

“Well, yes,” Phoebe agreed then, still in just her underwear, moved closer to him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “So?”

“I... I simply don’t feel worthy of it,” Michael confessed after a long pause. “That’s it.”

“Come on,” she poked his chest. “I’m pretty sure you do,” she stated and quickly realised it could have sounded suggestive, so she added: “I mean, everyone is worthy of love. No exceptions.” 

Michael smiled weakly in response when she looked up at him with her dark, alluring eyes. They were gazing at each other, both in some kind of weird admiration, not knowing what to say, but feeling comfortable in the silence they were in. Her cheeks were no longer red, more like pink, her lips wet as she had licked them a second earlier and Michael could no longer resist temptation when she bit her bottom lip, inviting him for another kiss. 

This one was different from the others they had shared; this one was slow and soppy; they took their time to explore every inch of their lips. 

Phoebe relaxed when he placed a hand on her hips and began stroking it gently; his touch was soothing, calming, so she quickly forgot how embarrassed she had felt a few minutes ago. If it happened with someone else, she would have already left, sneaking out like a coward, but this… This was different.

Her hands wandered to the zipper of his jeans and once they dealt with it, she moved onto the ground and pushed his legs apart. 

“Hey, hey,” Michael reacted quickly, pulling her onto his lap. “Give the old man a break,” he added, but could not hide a smirk that had appeared on his face. 

“Oh, okay, _old man_ ,” Phoebe teased, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I won’t tire you anymore tonight,” she said then kissed his cheek lightly. “I’ll call a cab and go home. It’s been a long day.”

“There’s a bed—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “Next time, okay?”

“Alright, I’m ready for round two,” Michael stated just when Phoebe got off him and put her dress back on. 

“Too late, handsome,” she replied then directed her steps towards the front door.

He ran after her and when she managed to open the door, he grabbed her hand, pulling her to him again and she bumped into him.

“I’ll give you a ride,” he offered. 

“Rest, _old man_ ,” she fired back. “I’ll be fi—”

Michael smashed his lips against her in another hungry kiss, so she responded, kissing him back and running her fingers in his black hair. They both got lost in a moment and would take things further, again, if it was not for the call that rang in Phoebe’s hand, bringing them both back from cloud nine. 

“It’s Amy,” Phoebe muttered, pulling away from Michael’s lips. “I gotta go. She’s probably worried sick about me—Did you hear that?” She looked around, searching for the sound of weird noise that had reached her ears. 

“I didn't hear anything,” Michael replied briefly then returned to the previous topic. “Tell Amy you’re in good hands and she's got nothing to worry about.” 

“Very funny,” she told him. “Seriously, didn’t you hear it?” she asked him again, wondering if she was that paranoid. 

“I can’t hear anything except your voice, baby.”

“Well, maybe I misheard something. Anyway, I'd better get going,” Phoebe said. “I’ll see you around?” 

“You bet,” Michael responded and waved her goodbye right before she disappeared behind the gate.

He was standing where he stood for a while, even after Phoebe was no longer in his sight, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time. He was happy. Simple as that, it was lovely to have someone like her around. She was making him feel like no one else could, giving his miserable life a purpose.

Purpose.

It was something he had been lacking for years. He had a life everyone could dream of, but he was still missing something. He wanted to be valid for someone. He wanted to have someone worth waking up every morning, someone, who was not Tracey or Jimmy. 

He needed someone like Phoebe, even if he had no idea he did until she appeared in his life. She made him feel all the things he had thought he would never feel again.

He felt wanted, and damn, it was something money could not buy.

* * *

Sounds of the street were reaching Daniel’s ears as he walked down the lane, late night in Los Santos. Despite the late hours, this city was still full of life. It was never quiet and Daniel was not used to that.

It was not surprising, because the life he had in Sandy Shores was much different. It was calm, slow, predictable - some people would even say it was boring and Daniel shared that opinion. Boredom was one of the reasons he began taking drugs. He was bored. He was unhappy. He did not like his life or even more - he hated it. He used to envy his sister because she had perspectives; she was a smart, hardworking woman and the success was just a matter of time in her case. When she got herself into medical school, their parents were thrilled. She was about to change her whole life and get out of town while he was wasting his youth hanging out with a bunch of fools when he was not helping his dad at work.

At some point, his life began slipping out of his hands. He was slowly losing control, taking more and more drugs and in a blink of an eye, he became an addict, slowly bringing his family down with him.

It started with his mother, Mary, who could not watch her son ruining his life. Then, there was his father's illness that only made the whole situation much worse. They were running out of money because James could not work anymore. The treatment was expensive and that was when Phoebe dropped out of medical school. She came back home, leaving all her dreams behind just to spend the last months of James’ life with him. All her savings were used to make her father’s life a little more bearable; she was buying him medications and everything else he needed back then.

She was his precious daughter till the very last day when he passed away. Phoebe was holding his hand while he breathed out his last breath and Daniel was sure it changed his sister forever.

Phoebe realised what was going on with the rest of her family when it was too late to stop it. Her mother was drinking daily - she spent days downing bottle after bottle. The death of her husband hit her more than she had expected, so she gave completely into her addiction, losing any hope it would ever get better. There was also Daniel, who was not only taking drugs but also selling them and hanging with very dangerous people. All this business was profitable but nasty as hell and Phoebe knew that well. She tried multiple times to pull her brother out of this, especially after their father had died because additional money was no longer needed, but he did not want to listen to her.

He already was too addicted to stop; his life stopped being boring as hell and sometimes, he felt happy. These short moments of happiness kept him going, but at the same time, they were stopping him from having a normal life. He did not care about that, though. He thought that he could stop whenever he wanted to and the fact he was still taking drugs was his choice.

He was so wrong, but he did not know that till the day he did something horrible. He almost killed his sister.

Daniel did not remember much from that day, except for the anger he felt when she told him she was moving out. He did not take it well, knowing his sister and mother was everything he had left.

There was no way he would let her leave and that was when they began arguing. The anger turned into a rage he could not control, so it was easy for him to become brutal. Out of sudden, he saw her all in blood on the kitchen’s floor as he stabbed her with the piece of broken glass.

Phoebe left soon after that, leaving them in two and at the same time, she broke her brother’s heart. He knew he was responsible for it and she had every right to hate him - he was supposed to care for her and mother, but instead, he let his addiction destroy him; he let his addiction destroy what was left of his family. He let his father down, his sister down and probably his mother, but she was too drunk to admit that, anyway.

He wished he could turn back time and never start taking drugs in the first place.

However, it was just wishful thinking. What happened, happened and there was nothing he could do to reverse it, but it did not stop him from wishing that one day he would get his sister back. He desperately wanted to fix his family and be a responsible man his father had always wanted him to be. _It can’t be too late_ , he kept telling himself and eventually, this thought made him make a pact with the devil himself.

Trevor Philips.

They had been friends... Colleagues for some time in the past. Trevor recruited Daniel into drug dealing and did not mind watching him getting more and more addicted, ruining his life at the same time. Trevor did not care about destroying anyone as long as it was profitable. 

Besides, Daniel did not mind that either, listening to Trevor as if he was a preacher. More, he considered Trevor a friend - he could always count on him in a _need_. Trevor pulled him into this business and did his best to keep him in it, making him believe he was good at it. That was also the reason he was the first person who came into Daniel’s head when he needed help.

He decided to ask Trevor a favour. Precisely, he needed his help in bringing Phoebe back home.

Trevor laughed him off at first but then realised how much she mattered to Dan. He would do anything to bring his sister back and Trevor would not miss the opportunity to have some fun. He agreed to help Daniel and found it amusing how far he was willing to go just to fill that empty void in his heart, but he did not share this thought with anyone.

As Trevor assumed, the plan Daniel had did not work out.

“Took you long enough to get here,” Daniel heard Trevor’s voice when he went into one of the dark alleys. “We could deal with it over the phone, you know? There’s no need for such _dramatic_ meetings.”

“Isn’t there?” Daniel asked, then looked at the man in worn-out grey joggers and a dirty white t-shirt. “I received a text from my sister and you know what she wrote? _There was nothing I could do_ ,” he quoted. “I asked you for one thing and you couldn’t do that!”

“Fuck you, Dan,” he responded, folding his arms. “It’s not my fault your sister prefers her new guy. Turns out, the bond you two have is not that strong, eh?” Trevor teased.

“What did you just say? What guy?”

“Michael,” Trevor replied. “Never heard of him, did you?”

“The guy she brought to the hospital the other day?”

“I guess? If there was any guy with your sister, it could be him, because they seem to spend a lot of time together. Anyway, I was trying to help you and made her choose. She didn’t even blink when she chose him. It’s obvious he matters more to her than you do and maybe that’s better. You’re a fucking liar,” Trevor pointed his finger at Daniel. “You lied to her. You lied to your mother. You’re lying to everyone, including yourself by thinking you can fix anything!”

Daniel could feel his heart beating faster with every word that was coming out of Trevor’s mouth. His words were painful but true. Daniel did many things wrong, but it did not mean he was a bad man or at least that was what he wanted to believe in. He wanted to believe that despite everything he had done, there was still something good in him; that he was still worth caring for, but he stopped being delusional the moment he realised his sister did not want to help him.

“My job here is done, Daniel,” Trevor said after a moment, dragging him out of his thoughts.

“It’s not done, Trevor,” Daniel hissed and clenched his fists. “You have to help me--” he said, but did not finish as Trevor pushed him against the wall.

“I don’t have to do a thing, so you better watch out how you talk to me!” he snapped. “I’m gonna give you a piece of advice, alright? Make peace with the thought you’re a fucker who ruined his family and let them both go. I know your mother, she’s a good woman...”

“And yet, it didn’t stop you from bringing me into this shit!”

“I didn’t bring you into this. You did,” Trevor fired back.

“Stop whining. Grow up. Be a man or something and get your ass to work, money doesn’t grow on the trees and you still owe me some! Oh, I almost forgot,” he added and without a warning, he punched Daniel in the nose. There had been a crack and a loud whine came out of Dan’s mouth right before his lips got covered up with blood. “Did I break it? Well, at least you’re gonna look convincing if you meet your sister.”

Daniel leaned his back against the wall then slipped onto the ground, holding his nose with a hand and watching Trevor disappearing behind the corner of the building. He moaned when he touched his nose too hard and a few tears fell onto his cheeks. It hurt badly, but he was not sure what caused this pain - was it Trevor’s punch or the thought he did not matter a single thing to Phoebe anymore?

 _How could she reject him? How could she do that to him?_ He had always loved her, he always wanted the best for her, even if he made some mistakes on the way. _It can’t be too late_ , he repeated in his thoughts and out of sudden, there was only one thought in Daniel’s head, the only one he could focus on: he had to get rid of someone who was no longer convenient.

Michael de Santa.

* * *

Phoebe did not sleep well the night after she had returned from Michael's mansion. She spent the whole evening talking on the phone with Amy, telling her about everything that had happened during the last two days and when she finished, she could not find herself a place in her apartment. After an hour of travelling between the bedroom and the kitchen, she ended up lying on the light pink carpet next to her bed.

She was thinking about _I love you_ that had slipped her mouth earlier, about her Daniel, about her mother... Even Trevor crossed her mind, but she quickly drove this thought of him away, coming back to the more pleasant thought of Michael. There was a chance she did not ruin everything between them - at least she hoped she did not scare him away by telling him she loved him, even though she did not mean it. Or did she? No matter what the answer would be, it did not matter. It was too early to say that. It was a mistake. A mistake she could not afford to make twice.

Oh, sometimes she felt like a fool. She felt too much, she cared too deeply and became attached too soon. It was the pattern she loved to repeat, knowing exactly how it would end, but still hoping that this time it would be different. 

But it was always the same.

A tear fell on her cheek and she reached for the blanket from her bed then wrapped herself in it, hoping in the morning she would feel better or at least, less pathetic. 

However, when the morning came, not much changed. Everything was almost the same. Almost, because when Phoebe walked into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee, she received an MMS message from her friend and it would not be something special if it was not a photo of the cover of _Stars Talk Weekly_... with her and Michael kissing in front of his mansion's door.

_**ASPIRING MOVIE PRODUCER MICHAEL DE SANTA CAUGHT CHEATING?** _

Phoebe read the headline and kept staring blankly at the screen of her phone, ignoring the sound of the boiling water in the background.

She could not believe her eyes and the only thing she could think about was that not only she felt like a fool, but also, she was one.


	11. One Last Favor

It seemed not to matter at all. 

Everything that happened between Michael and her seemed not to matter at all. She read the headline once again, torturing herself with it and staring at the photo included in the tabloid Amy had sent to her. 

She should have figured it out sooner.  She should have known it was a mistake to go into any kind of relationship with a man with a wedding band on his finger. Even if he had claimed his marriage was over.  It was so foolish of her to believe this time anything would be different. It was too good to be true. Too good to last longer than it did. 

Phoebe rubbed her eyes, too tired to cry, too tired to do anything except staring blankly at the screen of her phone. 

“Phoebe?” A quiet, but familiar voice reached her ears. “Are you okay?”

“Far from okay, Amy,” she replied, not even turning around to look at her friend and putting down her phone. “How did you—Oh, right. The spare key.” 

“You forgot to lock the doors,” Amy corrected, placing the  _ Stars Talk Weekly  _ edition on her kitchen table. “I haven’t used the spare key since I interrupted you and Michael with whatever you two were doing back then. I got a lesson and learned to knock first,” she added then sat down on the chair. 

“Why did you bring me this?” Phoebe asked, pointing her head at the tabloid. “You want me to torture myself even more with an original version of this photo?”

“I thought you may want to read—”

“I don’t. I’ve read the headline and that’s enough.”

“Phoebe, it’s just a picture—”

“No, it’s not just a picture, Amy!” Phoebe blurted a little too angry than she intended. “It’s not just a goddamn picture!” She fell onto the other chair and buried her face in hands. 

Amy had been staring at her friend in silence for a while.

“What happened between you and Michael yesterday?” She was reading Phoebe like an open book and knew something was definitely going on except that picture in the tabloid. “Phoebe?”

“We… We spend an evening together. He bought me a gift, got me a cake and… We had sex.” Phoebe set her eyes on the floor while she spoke. 

“So? What’s the problem?” 

“I don’t do that, Amy! I’ve never  **_ just _ ** slept with anyone before making it  _ a thing _ .”

“There’s nothing wrong with that if you both wanted it.”

“We did, but… Damn, it’s so embarrassing,” Phoebe whined. 

“What happened?” Amy asked once more. 

“I… I accidentally told him I loved him and he didn’t say anything back… He was like… He brushed me off, changing the subject as if nothing happened and this morning I saw this,” Phoebe pointed her finger at the tabloid, “and it all made sense. He never wanted this, whatever we both have to be more because he’s… He’s married! He’d lied to me about it…”

“I don’t think he would give you such a gift if he didn’t want  _ whatever you both have to be more _ . It must’ve cost a fortune,” Amy leaned over the table and took a closer look at Phoebe’s necklace. “Besides, it’s tabloid—it doesn’t have to be true.”

“I feel like a fool,” Phoebe sighed, propping her elbows on the table. “I feel like a goddamn idiot!”

“I’m so sorry… Even if I don’t like him, I know he… He makes you happy.”

“Not anymore,” Phoebe said firmly. “I’m so done with men trying to make a fool out of me over and over again.”

“I get it, but don’t let this anger you're feeling make you do something stupid—”

“Anger? I’m furious! I want to tell him how much I don’t want to see his lying, but handsome face ever—”

Her phone vibrated on the table, interrupting her before she could finish a sentence. She carefully peeked at the screen, not being very surprised when she saw  **_ Michael _ ** calling her.

Who else could it be?

“Looks like you have the chance to tell him how you feel,” Amy stated, patting her friend’s arm. “Good luck with that,” she added then stood up, ready to leave. “I ain't gonna distracting you.”

Once Amy left, Phoebe took a moment to stare at the screen again, clenching her fingers around her white iFruit and wondering what to do.

Out of sudden, she was not so sure what she wanted to say to him and if she wanted to say anything at all. 

To pick or not to pick, that was the question.

* * *

**_You deserve nothing, but best, honeybun. Remember that._ **

_James Harris had always been repeating these words to his precious daughter. She was his everything, so he was ready to give her the world if she asked for it. It was the father’s love in the purest form, but he had never hidden the fact his daughter was the most important person in his life._

_He loved both of his kids, but Phoebe was his favourite. He treated her as if she was not only his daughter but also his friend. The father-daughter relationship they had was something special. Something that could not be replaced by anything in the world._

_The worst part of being a father, no matter how great this experience was in general, was that he knew one day, his little girl would grow up. She would fall in love with some other man and leave her old man alone._

_There was nothing wrong with that, of course. It was a natural thing for children to grow up, moving out and starting a new life on their own. However, in his case, the biggest fear was who would replace him by his daughter side._

_Every guy she ever dated as a teen and a young adult was a fool. A fool, because James could not find another word for guys she was seeing. None of them could raise up to his expectations and prove himself to be worthy of his daughter._

_However, was it not a typical thing to do for a father to be overprotective of his daughter?_

_“Where are we heading today?” Phoebe asked, making herself comfortable on the passenger seat in her father’s old, red pickup they always used to take on the road trips._

_“We’ll see,” the man replied, his eyes focused on the road. “You always ask me that question, honeybun and the answer is always the same.”_

_“I’m just making sure there were no last-minute changes,” she told him, turning her head towards him. “I have to be back home before 7 p.m.”_

_“Why?” he asked, raising his right brow questioningly. "You have a date or something?"_

_“Maybe. Do you have something against it?” She leaned her right arm against the seat, so she could look at her father while he kept driving. “I promise, he’s a good guy—”_

_“Don’t get me wrong, baby, but I think not any guy is good enough for you," he interrupted his daughter. "You deserve nothing but the best, remember? You can’t blame me for wanting the best for my precious daughter.”_

_“I don’t blame you,” she responded, “but sometimes I feel… I feel as if the only “good enough” option was staying with you forever.”_

_“I wouldn’t mind that,” he chuckled, “but I know one day someone’s gonna steal your heart and it won’t matter what I say or not.”_

_“It will always matter what you say,” Phoebe countered. “There’s no other man like you in my life, dad. I doubt anyone will be able to take your place.”_

_“Oh, I’m sure someone will,” James looked at her daughter for a split-second. “You’re gonna make some man very happy one day. I hope he’s gonna take good care of you, but if he won’t, leave him. As I said…”_

_“I deserve nothing but the best,” Phoebe finished for him. “I remember.”_

_“Good girl,” he said. “When I was dating your mother, your grandpa was even more protective of her than I am of you. I had to really prove myself in front of him...”_

_“You’ve told me this story a hundred times, dad,” Phoebe replied. “In my case, no one will have to prove himself yet. I’m just dating this guy, not planning on marrying him.”_

_“Thank god,” James chuckled, “you’re way too young for marriage. Twenty-four year old... I wish I could be that young once again.”_

_"Oh I bet you do", Phoebe thought to herself and smiled gently at him while her father turned on the radio where "Burning down the house" by Talking Heads was being played. With the corner of her eye, she could see her father moving to the rhythm and singing single lines of that song, even though he could not sing at all._

_They continued driving without talking for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company, before her father asked, not being able to stop his curiosity:_

_“So, are you gonna tell your old man something more about this new guy of yours?”_

_Here he went, again._

* * *

_ Pick up, pick up, pick up. _

Michael was repeating in his thoughts as he kept his cellphone right next to his ear, waiting to hear her voice in it. 

_ Goddamn tabloid _ . 

He sighed when she did not pick up at the first try, leaning his back against the sofa and groaning when he realised how big was the mess he was in. 

When he was with her, he let himself forget about this whole  _ aspiring movie producer _ thing. He did not expect any paparazzo to be around. He let his guards down and let himself enjoy this moment with her. Little did he know that would be the price for his recklessness. 

The cover of  _ Stars Talk Weekly _ . 

He called her number again, hoping she would eventually pick up her phone. She had to pick up even if it was just for telling him to fuck off at some point. 

_ Another failure.  _

It was bad. 

It was bad when Solomon then Michael's manager called him this morning to ask what the hell was that supposed to mean. They also asked him whether he was aware of the fact that photo leaks like this one could harm his career badly.

Of course, he was aware. How could he not be? Everyone had been repeating to him how important reputation is in this brand. It was the reason why he did not want to let his divorce go public as long as it was not completely finished. He did not expect this whole  _ divorce _ thing to last so long, though. Amanda did not make it easy for him, especially when she realised there were some complications with marital property. 

She wanted it to split half and half, but Michael was far from agreeing on her proposition. Everything they had was because of him, so he could not let her go with half of it. 

It did not change the fact that in his eyes, this marriage was done. It was just a matter of figuring it out in front of the law. Then, they would never have to bear with each other again. 

Michael wished Phoebe had known all these things the moment she saw the cover of the tabloid. She must have seen it already, considering she was not picking up. 

_ Fuck. _

She had to know he did not lie to her on purpose. He did not tell her the whole truth, because who would tell the story of his life on the first date… First meeting. He would tell her all about it one day, but back then, he had no idea he would like her this much. 

He had no idea things would go this far. 

He tried calling her again, biting on his thumbnail and waiting for her to pick up. 

_ Pick up, pick up, pick up. _

“What do you want?” He heard her voice on the phone and simultaneously let out the sigh of relief. 

“Phoebe, I’ll explain—please, let me explain,” he started, searching for the right words and weighing each one of them.

“What is there to explain, Michael? You want to explain that you’re married? I know that already—”

“No,” he denied. “I’m not married—theoretically I am, but—”

“I don’t want to hear your explanations. Are you married or not?” She asked and from her tone, Michael could not tell a thing. She was speaking firmly, not letting him know whether she was angry or sad. 

“I’m married, but—”

“No  _ buts _ .”

Silence. 

Neither of them knew what to say. Michael could not find words, an excuse good enough to tell her, so he decided to go the way he rarely used. He rarely apologised, but this time, it seemed like the only right option to him.

“I’m so sorry, Phoebe. I wish you found out about it from me, not from a fucking tabloid.”

“I guess it doesn’t make much difference now,” she sighed deeply. “I should go, Michael. Goodbye—”

“No, don't go--wait!” he blurted then cursed soundlessly under his breath and clenched his right fist. “Wait a minute…”

“For what? You got another lie to treat me with?” Phoebe’s voice changed to pissed. “I don’t have time for that.”

“No, no. See, I work with Salomon Richards, you know the co-producer of  _ Meltdown _ … I know you probably don’t want to see me, but he called me this morning after seeing the cover of  _ Stars Talk Weekly  _ and… I’m sure you know how important the reputation is in Vinewood,” Michael paused for a moment then took a deep breath. “We had a rather unpleasant conversation and I need to ask you to do something for me.”

“I don’t have to do anything for you,” she replied. 

“I know you don't, but I thought… Considering I saved your life once… Will you do me a favour and save mine?” It was like a shot in the dark, but he was willing to take this risk. He had not much to lose, anyway.

Silence, disturbed only by a loud sigh after a few seconds. 

“What favour?”

“There’s a premiere of a new Salomon’s movie in two days. Red carpet, media, a lot of famous people. I need you to come there with me.”

“As plus one? Don’t you have a wife to go with?” Michael could sense a dose of irony in Phoebe’s voice. 

“If you let me explain earlier, I would tell you that we… We could not get along with some of the divorce matters. She and I are still married, but only on the paper and not for long now. There’s nothing more between us,” he explained. “My manager says it would help if paparazzi saw us together again… It would be… Less awkward and would certainly stave off unpleasant rumours about us.”

“There’s no us, Michael,” she fired back then paused. “Fine,” she said after a while. “I’ll go with you, but just because I feel as if I owned you this. After it’s done, we’re done, so you can tell your manager to start thinking of better solutions to the problems you create.”

“Great. I will text you the details,” Michael replied. “Phoebe, once again, I’m so—”

She hung up.

“Fuck!” he cursed, tossing his phone aside and burying his face in his hands.

He was in a big mess and there was one to blame but him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I know it's not the longest chapter I've ever posted, but at least I posted it... Pretty soon? So, I hope it can make up for the length. Also, I realised I feel better in writing shorter chapters - my time for the longer ones will come, but it's not today. 😉
> 
> Anyway, as always, thank you for reading. 💖 (and for bearing with me, lol)


	12. In The Spotlight

_ I can’t believe I’m doing this,  _ Phoebe thought to herself once she got out of the shining, black limousine that had stopped in front of Oriental Theatre. She took a deep breath and fixed her hair, tucking the strand of her dark brown, wavy hair behind her right ear. 

_ Fashionably late  _ she was, but as it turned out, everyone was. It must have been a thing in this whole Vinewood world - never be on time and always make a great entrance.

Everyone seemed so famous to Phoebe while she walked, searching for her partner for the night in the crowd. Everyone was dressed up so fancy, she was suddenly grateful that Michael had set up a hairdresser and makeup artist for her, even though she had claimed she would be fine on her own. He also took care of both of their outfits, so the only thing she had to do was come and be with him that night.

She had to do so little and so much at the same time.

So much, because for the past two days she had been torn, thinking whether she was making the right choice by agreeing to help him. It was so much because, despite everything, she was hurt. She hated being lied to. She rarely lied, knowing lies would always come to the light and, in the end, they would do more harm than the truth. She preferred the truth - no matter how horrible it would be, it would not be as bad as the most beautiful lie. 

Ironically, she was lying to herself the moment she noticed Michael standing a few feet away from her, dressed to kill in one of the most elegant black suits she had ever seen, laughing at something Salomon told him. She was lying to herself, trying to convince herself she did not feel a single thing, not even a tiny bit of sympathy towards him, but she failed. 

She was never good at pretending.

She was never good at fooling herself, but this time, she had to be tough and instead of following her heart, she followed her mind or at least, she tried.

One last favour.

“You look stunning in this dress,” Michael complimented her once he approached her a few moments later. She looked down, biting her bottom lip and trying to avoid his sight. “Red suits you.”

“Thank you,” she responded automatically. “You took care of every detail, so it’s all your merit. I just had to sit down and let all these stylists do the job,” she paused. “You’ve got a taste… I mean, the dress, they told me you’d picked it, too.”

“You can’t get wrong with a long, satin, red dress.” His lips curled into a smirk. “Shall we?” he asked, then offered her his hand. She hesitated, giving him a questioning look at first. “It’s just for the pictures,” he added. “I know the rules. You made them very clear.”

“Did I?” 

“You’re doing me a favour by being here,” Michael explained. “I already told my manager to start working on better solutions to the endless amount of problems I create.”

“Well, at least you listened to what I said,” Phoebe marked, letting him hold her hand gently as they began walking together on the red carpet, quickly getting blinded by camera flashes.

Phoebe could not see a thing due to the reflectors' light, so she instinctively moved closer to Michael, smiling and pretending she was just fine. She heard their names being shouted by paparazzi, so she turned towards the source of the sound and at the same moment, a female reporter approached them, holding a mic in one of her hands.

“Mister de Santa, can we ask you a few questions our readers are dying to know answers for?” she asked, putting a mic in front of Michael’s face before he could even agree. 

“I, um—” He looked at Phoebe and she looked back at him not really knowing what to do, so she nodded, letting him know to do what he had to. “Sure.”

“We’re aware that it’s a movie premiere, but after the events from the past few days and you getting on the cover of  _ Stars Talk Weekly  _ with your beautiful companion,” the interviewer peeked in Phoebe’s direction, “our readers are extremely curious is your wife aware of the relationship you two have?”

“Ex-wife,” Michael corrected her quickly, “and no, she’s not aware, because it’s not my ex-wife’s concern who I am seeing with.”

“Alright. Now a quick question for your companion,” she turned to Phoebe. “Is your  _ thing  _ with Michael something more or it’s rather…  _ Fleeting _ relationship?”

Phoebe did not know what to reply. At that moment, surrounded by dozens of reflectors and paparazzi, she could only think about getting out of this situation quickly. She looked at the interviewer questioningly, searching for any response she could have told her when Michael stepped in and, like a knight in shining around, rescued her from explaining her feelings publicly.

“Her relationship with me is what she wants it to be,” he told the reporter. “Now excuse us.” Then, he pulled Phoebe with him and they did not stop until they reached the entrance of the theatre. 

“I’m so sorry for that,” Michael said to Phoebe once held the door for her and she walked inside the Oriental Theatre. 

“It’s okay,” she responded, “you didn’t know she would be this nosy.” She sent him a light smile. “I don’t think I’m a fan of red carpets, anyway. It’s exhausting.”

“It’s not always that bad. Well, it’s way easier when they don’t ask you awkward questions. You just have to walk, smile and pose for pictures.” 

“I bet.”

They were gazing at each other for a moment until Michael realised he was getting too comfortable and looked aside, trying to act natural, but he could not, not when she was around and smiled at him. He had been behaving recklessly since he met her, making mistake after mistake.

“The movie is about to start in a few minutes,” he pointed, escaping her sight and was about to walk away when she held his hand again. 

“Hey, wait a second.” She stopped him from running away from her. “We have to keep up appearances,” she explained and they started walking side by side, holding each other’s hand, “and make them believe we’re here together, right?”

“Right,” he nodded, without arguing with her statement. In fact, a part of him wished she had been here with him not only because he had asked her to and she was simply repaying the favour. 

Phoebe, on the other hand, wished she had been there with him just because of that.

* * *

_ “Phoebe? Can I come in?” James asked, opening the doors of her daughter’s room slightly. “Honeybun, you haven’t eaten anything since you got back home yesterday.” _

_ “I’m not hungry, dad,” she murmured, wrapping herself in the blanket, “and I don’t really want to talk right now—” Her voice cracked and tears streamed down her cheeks. “Go away.” _

_ “Oh, baby, there’s no way I’m gonna leave you like that,” the man said, then took a seat next to her on the bed, wrapping his arm around her. _

_ She sobbed when she hugged her father tightly, burying her face in his chest. The man hugged her back without saying a word - he waited. No matter what had happened, she had to cry it out and he intended to be there for her, no matter what. No matter how bad he felt seeing his daughter crying her eyes out on him.  _

_ “What happened, Phoebe?”  _

_ No reply at first.  _

_ Then, after a minute or two, she asked: “Have you ever had your heart broken?” _

_ “Oh, dear heart…” James stroked the back of her head. “Of course, I have.” _

_ Phoebe pulled back and looked at him with her puffy eyes. The warm smile, big green eyes, the wrinkles on the forehead and strands of dark brown hair on it were significant features of her father’s look. Whenever she was looking at him, she felt safe.  _

_ She felt home.  _

_ “Why are you asking me that?” _

_ “I think I got my heart broken,” she sobbed, “and it’s all my fault. I keep pushing people away till they eventually leave.” She looked down then shook her head slowly. “I grew up thinking I deserve someone amazing, but now... I’m not so sure about it anymore.” _

_ “Phoebe, no one is perfect,” her father chuckled. “Even the best people make mistakes.” _

_ “But… But you’ve always told me that I deserve best...” She seemed confused.  _

_ “Best doesn’t mean flawless, sweetheart. You can’t push people away because they make mistakes,” James responded then, he sighed deeply. “You have to know when to forgive or walk away when people hurt you, but… Don’t push them away in advance.” _

_ “I guess it makes sense,” she laughed through the tears, making it sound miserable. “Oh, god… Will I ever learn? Or will I keep making the same mistakes over and over again?” _

_ “It usually takes some time and a few broken hearts,” James said, “but you will learn.” _

_ “How can you be so sure?” _

_ “I just am.” _

* * *

Phoebe did not remember much from the movie. 

She could not focus, but no matter how badly she tried, Michael’s right hand resting on her left knee for the whole show was too much of a distraction. 

He must have taken this whole  _ keep up appearances  _ thing way too seriously, but Phoebe did not dare to brush his hand off her. For a moment, she forgot she was even mad at him. At some point, she even placed her head on his shoulder and indulged in the scent of his cologne and smelling bergamot mixed with lavender.

Then, at the after-party, Michael could not step away from her, holding her hand with his as if they were glued to each other and letting it go off only when he was going to get them something to drink.

“There you go,” he said, handing her another Martini. She mouthed silent  _ thank you _ as she took a glass from him and was ready to listen to the continuation of his story. “So, about the movie—” 

“Michael!” Salomon called him, interrupting him in the middle of the sentence. Then, he approached them both, eyeing Phoebe from the bottom to the top. “Isn’t she too pretty for you, my friend?” he snickered. “You, pretty lady, look like a million dollars.” 

“Thank you, mister Richards,” she replied politely. 

“Oh, call me Salomon,” he told her, sending her a seductive smile that Michael definitely noticed. “I was watching you two from afar and I just could not take my eyes off you, dear. I’m sure Michael shares my opinion that you’re simply stunning.”

Phoebe could feel Michael’s hand tightening on hers while he gave Salomon a pissed look. 

“I can’t believe someone like you is not in the industry, Phoebe. You’ve got the body of a model and one of the prettiest smiles Vinewood had ever witnessed,” Salomon kept complimenting her. “Have you ever tried modelling?”

“No. I’ve never had a chance and—”

“You definitely should,” he interjected. “You would have more opportunities to show up with Michael and a career you could use to make a living. I don’t know where he found you, but you're pure gold and I really think he could use someone like you by his side.”

“It’s extremely kind of you, Salomon, but I’m not really interested in modelling,” Phoebe said, trying to remain as polite as possible. 

“Think about it, okay? My people will contact you in a few days to get an answer.” Salomon winked at her and she could see this angry look on Michael’s face.

“Will do,” she sent him a shy smile. “Excuse me for a moment,” she told both of the men, sliding her hand out of Michael’s. She headed straight to the bar, downing the Martini Michael had brought for her earlier on her way. 

“Hi, can I get another one?” she asked the bartender once she leaned against the counter. 

The bartender did not reply; instead, he took a quick look at her and smirked, then, a few moments later, he placed another Martini in front of her. “Thanks,” she said to him quickly then took a big sip. 

_ What am I doing _ , Phoebe thought as she brushed back her hair. She was enjoying this night more than she should have, forgetting about the fact that she was mad at Michael in the first place. She might not have shown it, but Salomon’s words were truly flattering and what was even more satisfying, she saw Michael’s reaction when his boss complimented her. 

She smiled gently at the thought of him being jealous. It meant he cared and she, even if she had been pissed at him for lying to her, she wanted him to care. 

She sighed deeply.

This whole thing was complicated. She spent the last two days thinking whether she had not overreacted at first when she found out about his lie. What if she was too harsh on him, shutting him down before he could even give her a proper explanation? 

She was getting fooled by her emotions, once again and tried to justify other’s actions at all cost. 

_ You have to know when to forgive or walk away when people hurt you, but… Don’t push them away in advance. _

_ “ _ Are you okay?” Michael asked, scaring her when he approached her from behind unexpectedly. 

“Yeah, I… I just needed a break from all of this,” she responded, turning towards him. “How about you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Listen, I… I want to apologise for Salomon. He can be a little bit… Importunate.”

“It’s alright. I was dealing with worse than him,” Phoebe smirked, “but thank you for checking up on me.”

“Sure,” Michael nodded. “So, what do you think about this whole modelling thing?” 

“Actually… I don’t know. I’m not a model, Michael. Never been one,” she smiled, rolling up her eyes. “As I said, I’ll think about it, but… It’s not likely.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

“Okay?” she repeated. “That’s all you have to say?” 

“Yeah. Do what you feel like,” he replied. “Speaking of feelings… Do you feel like dancing with me?” He held out his hand to her. 

“What? Here?” Phoebe could not hide her surprise.

“Yes, here. Look around, some people are dancing, too,” he pointed his head at some couple who was slow dancing in the corner. “May I have this dance?”

“Dancing was not a part of the deal,” Phoebe marked.

“I know,” Michael countered. “I’m just trying my luck.” 

He had a nerve, Phoebe thought and smiled, shaking her slowly. Michael was still holding his hand out to her while the slow, smooth jazz music was playing in the background - how could she turn down such an offer?

After a moment of consideration, realising she had crossed the boundaries she had set for herself a long time ago, she took his hand and Michael pulled her out with him on the dance floor. He spun her around gently, making sure she ended up with her back on against his chest and with her forearms crossed under her ribs as he was now holding both of her hands in his.

He pulled her close enough to let her feel his warm breath on her neck and his chin on her right shoulder when he rested it there a few seconds later. 

“We’re more swinging than dancing,” Phoebe tilted her head back and said to Michael’s ear.

“It’s called slow dancing,” Michael chuckled, tangling his fingers with hers. “Don’t you like it?”

“Well, it’s not really demanding,” she replied, smiling gently. “I thought you want to actually dance like… Tango or something.”

“Do I look like someone who can dance, Phoebe?” 

“Is that a rhetorical question?” She let out a small chuckle.

“Bingo.”

They kept swinging for a while, keeping their bodies close to each other and enjoying this moment when the whole world seemed not to exist at all. Phoebe seemed to forget everything that had happened, letting her heart take over control again. She looked down at her hands covered by Michael’s and quickly noticed something was missing.

“Where’s your wedding band?”

“Oh, I forgot to put in on,” he explained briefly and she puffed in response. “What?”

“Nothing,” she responded. “I thought you took it off for me,” she teased.

“Would you like that?” 

“Maybe,” she continued her teasing. Then, she carefully untangled her fingers from his and turned around, placing her hands on his shoulders. “I think I’ll call it a night, Mike.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty late. I’ll call us a cab,” Michael offered, stopping and pulling his phone out of the pocket of his trousers. 

“Us?” Phoebe repeated, but Michael shushed her with a hand gesture as the taxi operator picked up his call. Once he was done, she repeated her question and in response, she received:

“You didn’t think I would let you go home alone at night?”

She did not argue with him. She was too tired to argue and her legs were hurting badly from the high heels; it has been a while since she spent this long on heels and out of sudden, she felt a sharp pain spreading through her left thigh. 

If it was not for Michael being by her side, she would certainly have collapsed, but instead, she hung onto his shoulder, trying to catch a balance.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, concerned, then wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her to stand. 

“My leg loves to remind me of itself at the worst possible moments,” Phoebe frowned, feeling the throbbing pain all over her thigh. “Heels don’t help, either.”

“Maybe you want to sit down for a bit?” Michael offered, disturbed by the pain painted all over her face. 

“No--I’m fine,” she breathed out, barely standing on her feet. “If you could just help me get to the cab…”

“God, you’re such a bad liar,” he told her, grabbing her under the ribs and helping her walk.

They got through the crowd and once they walked outside, Michael carried her down the stairs, then continued helping her hobbling by his side until they reached the cab. She was stubborn and did not let him convince her it would be easier if he carried her, saying she got this; she was too proud to let him do that, anyway. 

The road to her place was fast and again, she did not remember much of it as she nestled up against Michael on the backseat, trying to think about anything else than the relentless pain. 

“There’s no way I’m letting you climb these stairs,” Michael stated once they stopped in front of the building Phoebe was living in and without a warning he lifted her, not accepting any word of objections coming out of her mouth. 

“You didn’t have to--I would manage to get here on my own,” Phoebe said when they were already upstairs. 

“I’m sure you would,” he laughed. “You would be here, I don’t know, in the morning?”

“Not funny,” she told him, but after a moment, she also laughed. 

Then, there was silence. A silence that could mean nothing good. A silence that made them both wonder what had just happened, so now they were standing and staring at each other as if it was their last meeting.

In fact, it was supposed to be their last meeting.

“So...” Michael started, feeling his throat running dry the second he began speaking. “Thank you for helping me tonight. It means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome,” she said quietly. “I… I had a good time.”

“I’m glad you did,” he fired back. “I-um… I wanted to say I’ll see you around, but considering you clearly said once this night is done we’re--”

“Don't... Stop talking,” she interrupted him. “I don’t know what it is about you, but… I’ll see you around, Michael de Santa.” She smiled under her breath then shook her head after she had spoken the last words, surprising them both with her statement. “I have one condition, though. Don’t ever lie to me again.”

“I won’t,” he told her, feeling a huge weight falling off his shoulders. “I promise.”

And right after he had promised that to her, he realised this promise was already broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to say except that I can't believe I'm posting a chapter with a decent length this soon. 🤭


	13. Then And Now

_ Silence. _

_ Bitter tears were streaming down Phoebe’s cheeks when she was sitting by her father’s side on the hospital bed, holding his left hand tight in hers. The minutes felt like hours and the feeling of hopelessness was getting unbearable.  _

_ There was nothing she could do.  _

_ Nothing she would have done would help his father now. It was too late.  _

_ It was almost done. _

_ She wiped the tears away from her cheeks with the sleeve of her grey sweater, realising crying would not help at all either. She took another look at her father’s peaceful face; he was unconscious, but she was pretty sure he could still hear her, so she whispered: _

_ “I love you so much, dad.” _

_ And the tears fell on her cheeks again. _

_ “Phoebe?” Someone asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Do you need anything?” _

_ “I need my father to get out of this,” she responded, touching the hand on her shoulder with hers and glancing at the man who had approached her.  _

_ “You know there’s nothing we can do…” _

_ “I know, Murphy,” she interjected, “but you asked me what I need.” _

_ The man did not reply. He kept staring at her painfully for a while; there was nothing right he could say at that moment, nothing that would make her feel better, but he had to say something, not being able to maintain this deadly silence disturbed only by the sounds made by the ECG machine. _

_ “Your father was one of the best doctors I’ve ever known,” he started quietly. “We’ve been working with each other for years and… I wish I could do something to help.” Murphy sighed, brushing back his greyed hair. “I’m sure he’s so proud of you following his steps, you know? You’re gonna be an amazing doctor, just like your father.” _

_ “I don’t know about that,” she sobbed. “What’s the point of all these… If I can’t help him now?” _

_ “Phoebe… It’s not your fault. Pancreatic cancer, it’s...” _

_ “I want to be alone with my dad, Murphy. That’s all I want now.”  _

_ A moment later she was alone in the hospital room, left just with her thoughts. There was no hope left. It was just a matter of time; a matter of days, hours or minutes. She could not precisely say how long it would take, but she knew that it was all coming to an end. All these years of her father’s suffering were about to end.  _

_ Soon, he would be at peace. _

_ Phoebe reached out for her phone and dialled her mother, not really knowing what she expected when the woman did not pick up. She dialled her brother, but again, there was no response.  _

_ She cursed under her breath, realising it should not have looked like this. She should not have been there on her own while the rest of her family was nowhere to be found or reached.  _

_ However, she couldn't care less about them when ECG’s beat slowed down then, after a while, flatlined, filling the whole hospital room with this dreadful sound.  _

_ She froze, letting a single tear fall on her left cheek and a silent cry escaped her mouth. The pain fulfilled her chest and suddenly, she could not breathe, choking with sobs. With a corner of her eye, she noticed Murphy walking to the room again, but he did not dare to approach her this time.  _

_ And then, her phone rang and with a shaking hand she picked it up. _

_ “Y-yes?” she stuttered. “Dan? N-no, stop with your fucking excuses… What h-happened? Are you really asking me that?” She took a breath, trying to calm down enough to say: _

_ “Dad’s dead.” _

* * *

Michael was lying by the pool, enjoying the warm afternoon sun on his skin and the whiskey that he was holding in his left hand. There was not much going on for the past few days, so he could spend his days like that - doing nothing much, but thinking a lot. 

After the night with Phoebe, he realised how badly he was caught up in his lies. Countless times Amanda called him a  _ liar _ , Trevor called him a  _ liar _ , but he did not listen to them, trying to justify his actions any other way than calling it  _ lying.  _ However, he could not justify his actions now.

He felt ashamed of what he had done, but then, he realised that was who he was.  _ A liar _ . Shame it took him so long to figure it out, hurting so many people on his way. 

He was so caught up in his lies that trying to fix them would cause a disaster. His whole life was built upon lies or at least, the last ten years. He got so used to lying, he forgot that telling the truth could be even more beneficial. On the other hand, it was hard to blame him - the lies were the reason he and his family were alive - at some point, he was forced to lie to keep going; to make his family and him safe.

At some point, he was no longer willing to lie, but he could not stop and when the truth came to the light, everything went down.

Michael was pretty sure that if Phoebe found out about what he had done to her, she would hate him. She would hate him in a blink of an eye, realising their whole relationship was built on a goddamn lie.

He should have told her the truth at the very start. He should have told her the truth when he had a chance and especially when he was not so emotionally involved in whatever they both had.

There was no chance he would tell her about it now, not when she just gave him a second chance and things were going just fine between them.

He fell into the trap he had set. 

There was a possibility Phoebe would never know about his lie. He had managed to live in a lie for 9 years before Trevor found out the truth about what happened in North Yankton. Nine years. For nine years he managed to keep his secrets, including the one about his best friend being dead instead of him. No one knew. No one would have known if it had not been for the stupid coincidence. Bad place, bad time. 

For a second, he was thinking about the influence of coincidence on his life and the fact it was not always the bad influence. 

He accidentally met Phoebe and she, whether she wanted it or not, changed his life. She changed him enough to make him question his choices and the way he had been living until he met her. 

Maybe Trevor was right. Maybe it was high time to do the right thing and tell her the truth. 

But then, he realised that he was simply afraid of losing her. If this sense of guilt was the price he had to pay to be around her, he was willing to pay it. 

He was ready to do anything to avoid Phoebe hating him for the rest of her life. 

“ **_Fuck you, Michael!_ ** ” 

He heard an angry voice of his ex-wife followed by a splash of water on his face. 

“What the fuck, Amanda?!” He jumped to his feet, wiping his eyes and giving her a pissed look. “Have you lost your mind completely?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She threw at him the  _ Stars Talk Weekly  _ magazine with him and Phoebe on the cover. “Not mentioning your  _ interview  _ on the last premiere at Oriental Theatre,” she continued once he put down the tabloid. “You ruined my career—”

“As if you ever had one!” Michael interrupted her in the middle of the sentence. “What are you even doing here? You came all the way from wherever you were just to splash water on my face, throw a goddamn tabloid on me and tell me I,” he pointed both his pointing fingers on himself, “ruined something that never existed?”

“I came because whether you like it or not, I’m still your fucking wife and I demand some respect from you!” she yelled. “You’ve been sleeping with whores for years, but bringing them to our house? It’s not even about this cover! Your daughter told me everything!”

“It’s not your house since you moved out a few months ago and from that time you’ve been dropping by only to play on my nerves!” Michael could feel his blood boil in his veins as he clenched his fists. “You demand respect, eh? Where was your respect when you were bringing your loverboys to our bed?!” 

“Don’t even start, Michael—”

“Start what? You’re the one coming here and trying to tell me I’m the one guilty of every single thing! Bullshit!” he grumbled. “The person who should have some respect is you! I offered you a good deal and wanted to do this whole divorce thing peacefully, but no! You rejected it and now, you’ve got the nerve to come here, to  **_MY_ ** house and whine about me ruining your career when you have no career, Amanda! All your fame is built on you having  **_my_ ** surname after your name!”

“Who is this woman?” she asked in a cold, harsh tone, even though her face was furious. “Was it worth ruining everything we had as a family for a goddamn whore?”

“Don't call her that ever again,” Michael hissed. “Why do you even bother? Our family has been ruined for years, Mandy. Our marriage has been ruined for years, so don’t play a victim here and don’t try to make me feel guilty for something that happened a long time ago…”

Amanda huffed, shaking her head slowly. “So, that’s what it’s about,” she said, and he furrowed his brows. “She’s not **_just_** a hooker for you.” It was rather a statement than a question followed by a period of silence when she noticed the lack of a wedding band on Michael’s finger. “Who do you think you are, Michael? Let me tell you. You're a mid-aged, pathetic man who thinks he found himself a girl worth the trouble. I hate to break it to you, _husband,_ but the moment she realizes what kind of man you are, she will leave you. You have to be aware of that, right? There’s no sane woman who would want a man like you. Everywhere you go, the chaos follows and it drags others in—”

“So what are you still doing here?” Michael hissed through clenched teeth. “You like being in the centre of chaos?”

“I’ve been in the centre of it for years. That’s why I’m sorry for her,” Amanda taunted. “Poor little girl has no idea what she got herself into.”

It was too much. 

Michael heard enough from her and was not willing to hear a word more. He had never hurt any woman in his life before, but at this very particular moment, he was close to crossing his boundaries. Amanda was playing with him, testing how far she could go before he would lose it all.

“Sign those fucking divorce papers and get out of my life or else…” he muttered, trying his best to stay calm.

“Or else what? You’re gonna get rid of me just like you did with your best friend or anything else that’s inconvenient in your life? You’re gonna get rid of me, the mother of your children?” Amanda teased, balancing at the edge of Michael’s patience. “I won’t sign the papers unless it’s fifty-fifty. I won’t let you fuck me over ever again.”

“You’re walking on thin ice, Amanda. Very thin ice,” Michael murmured, “and you’re gonna regret it.”

“Don’t threaten me, even though it’s so like you. It’s your choice what you’re gonna do now,” she shrugged then turned around. “Goodbye,  _ husband _ ,” she added in her fake honeyed voice and showed him a middle finger while she was walking away, moving her hips from the left to the right in way too tight yoga pants and a short white top. 

Michael cursed under his breath then, he grabbed the glass he had put down before Amanda came to see him or rather make him lose his temper again. With one, angry move he smashed it against the ground, making it fall into hundreds of tiny pieces. 

He was screwed. 

Amanda would not make it easier for him at all, but at the same time, he knew her days of victory are counted. 

He had someone to fight for now and this time, he did not plan to lose.

* * *

For the past few days, Phoebe had been busy. 

She needed some time to process everything that had happened during the past few weeks and how much all these things affected her and her life at the same time. She thought of that in the mornings when she opened up her eyes and once she took her phone in her hand, there was already a  _ good morning _ message from Michael waiting for her. 

He had been doing his best since he walked her home that night, after the premiere. However, Phoebe knew better not to rush anything this time and gave them both some time to figure things out on their own. 

Besides, she liked the place where they were in at the moment. 

Still, they had a lot to talk about. All in time, though. 

There were more urgent matters Phoebe had to take care of first, such as searching for a new job after she had spectacularly lost her previous one. 

Goddamn Joe.

Phoebe called Amy to tell her about what had happened at the premiere then mentioned the offer she received from Solomon and her friend could not be more excited about this. She was probably more excited than Phoebe herself, trying to convince her friend to go for it. 

“Why won’t you just give it a try? You have no idea how many women would like to be in your place right now!” Amy said over the phone. “I’m pretty sure they pay more for a photo session than in any cafe in this city.”

“I’m not a model,” Phoebe countered. “I have no experience, skills, nothing—”

“It’s because you have never tried it before! Come on! If they wanted someone skilled, they would hire a supermodel. They want someone pretty and that you are.”

And so, after a call Phoebe received from Solomon’s manager, she decided to give it a try, not really knowing what she was getting herself into. 

“Make it look...seductive! Part your lips gently and look at me the way you look at someone you… like,” she was listening to the instructions given by the photographer and followed, her thoughts wandering to the very first person that came to her mind. 

Michael.

She recalled her favourite memory with him when they kissed in her apartment for the first time, letting all these fuzzy feelings fill her up. “Keep it up like that!” A voice of the photographer dragged her out of her thoughts. “Few more shots and we’re done!”

_ A few more minutes and it would be done _ , Phoebe thought.  _ I can do that. _

Again, she focused on posing and looking as good as possible in the black, tight, one-piece bodysuit with long sleeves they had dressed her in. She tilted her head and brushed back her hair, setting her eyes on the camera when she heard  _ We got it!  _ being shouted at her by the photographer after a few more seconds. 

“You really did it for the first time?” he asked her once he approached her to show her a few shots he had taken of her. “I don’t know how I’ll pick the best ten. See that?” He pointed at the small screen on his camera. “That’s the first photo I took after I’d told you to go think about someone you like and look at the difference. Good job.”

“Thanks,” Phoebe replied and smiled shyly. 

“Come on, Tony, don’t flatter her so much.” A woman a little bit older than Phoebe, probably another model, approached them from the other side of the studio. “She wouldn’t even be here if she wasn’t Richards’ protégée.”

“It doesn’t mean she can’t look good in photos, Lydia,” the man bit back. “Don’t care about her,” Tony turned to Phoebe. “She’s permanently mean for no reason.”

“Me? Mean?” Lydia snorted. “I’m just telling you all how things are. Oh, next time try to, I don’t know, suck Solomon’s dick better or something and maybe he’s gonna give you a role in his next movie. That’s why you’re here, right?” 

“No, but I’ll take your words to the heart,” Phoebe told her, faking a smile. “You seem experienced and I love to learn from the best.”

Tony let out a chuckle, noticing Lydia had no idea what to reply and her face became red in a few seconds. “At least I’m not the one who sleeps with married men.” She tried to offend Phoebe, but she was far from arguing with her. 

“Neither do I,” she replied calmly. “Maybe you should read something instead of judging its cover, but what do I know?” Phoebe shrugged, turning back to Tony. “Since we’re done here, I’m gonna go and change. See you around, Tony.”

“Bye, dove,” he replied, waving her goodbye then returned to scrolling through the photos on his camera. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Lydia’s high voice reached Phoebe’s ears after she had made a few steps.

“Home,” she replied. 

“But I’m not done—”

“But I am,” Phoebe interjected. “Listen, Lydia, I don’t want to argue. You do you and I’ll do me. If you really want to fight, find someone else, because I’m not here for it. Don’t come in my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”

The woman looked at her as if she had said something in a completely unknown language to her and it took her a moment to process what Phoebe had said.

“I don’t want you to be near Solomon,” she blurted out of sudden.

“Oh.” It all started to make sense for Phoebe. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on being anywhere near him,” she assured. 

“Don’t you?” She looked at Phoebe questioningly. “I’ve seen you at the premiere. He was pretty interested in you.” 

“Maybe he was, but I’m not interested in him at all. I’m grateful for his help and giving me this chance, of course, but… Nothing more. I have my eyes locked on someone else.”

“I see,” Lydia replied and a slight smile appeared on her face. “Well… Don’t let it change.”

“As I said, don’t worry,” Phoebe replied. “Solomon is all yours.”

And with these words she walked away, leaving her newly made  _ friend _ by herself in the studio.

* * *

_ How was it?  _

_ Not bad, though I don’t think it’s for me,  _ Phoebe replied on the text she had received from Amy right after she changed her clothes, feeling comfortable again in her black, skinny jeans and white, short tank top. She put on her black, short converse sneakers and decided it was high time for her to go home.

By the time she left the photo studio in Downtown Los Santos, it was already late afternoon. She could already feel the hunger after not eating for the whole day, so she kept walking, intending to get something to eat on her way back home when she accidentally bumped into someone. 

“I’m so—Michael?” She could not hide her surprise when a man she had walked into turned out to be him.

“You shouldn’t text and walk at the same time,” he pointed, chuckling when he noticed her shocked face. “Unless you were texting me.” 

“I was texting Amy,” she replied then shook her head. “What are you even doing here? Are you stalking me or something?”

“No,” Michael denied. “I might have access to Solomon’s calendar, though, and he had your photo session put in it. I didn’t expect you to agree on his offer, but when I found out you did, I thought I would surprise you.” 

“You did surprise me, indeed.”

“So, what are you up to now when you’re done with work?” 

“I was planning on going home and grabbing dinner on the way,” she replied. “I’m starving.”

“What do you say about  _ Taco Libre _ ?” 

“Are you taking me out?” Phoebe asked, tilting her head to the side and smiling at him. 

“Can’t I? I’m already sending you  _ good morning _ texts, so I figure there’s nothing wrong with taking you out, too. We could go for a walk later…” Michael looked down, feeling he had crossed the line here. “You know what, we don’t have to—”

“You had me at  _ Taco _ ,” she told him then winked at him teasingly. “Besides, it would be a shame if you stalked me for nothing.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I know. I’m just messing with you.”

* * *

An hour later, they sat on the bench with a view on Vespucci Beach, eating tacos and catching up on everything they missed in each other’s lives in the past few days.

She told him all about searching for a job, ending up agreeing to Solomon’s offer, first day as a  _ model  _ and meeting this platinum blonde woman, Lydia, who had more or less assumed she must have slept with Richards to get this job. 

Michael was not surprised by that at all. He was there with Phoebe at the premiere, he saw the way Salomon was looking at her - it was obvious he had something more in mind when he offered her his help or at least, he was hoping for more when he made his offer to her. 

Even though Michael would never admit that it was how Vinewood worked and he knew that well. That was the reason why he was so mad at Solomon - there could be nothing pure in his motives, especially when he was offering his help.

Yet, he did not stop him from making this offer or her from agreeing to it. 

“If Solomon does something inappropriate, let me know,” Michael said once Phoebe finished talking. “I’ll gladly take care of any inconvenience.” 

“I don’t think there will be such a need,” she chuckled. “I have a feeling Lydia won’t let it happen and I ain’t planning on staying in this brand for long, anyway. I do this just for money, I’m not a model and… I just don’t feel this whole model life to be for me.” 

“There are many things I don’t agree on with Solomon, but he was right telling you could make a career in this brand. You’re beautiful and I’m sure many people would share that opinion.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she replied and her face flushed red, “but thank you.”

“You look so sweet when you blush,” Michael marked, “and have these cute wrinkles on your nose whenever I tell you a compliment.”

“Do I?” she laughed, shaking her head slowly. “I had no idea wrinkles can be cute on anyone.”

“They’re cute on you,” he fired back.

“So you say,” she mused. 

They continued small talk until they reached the point when Michael decided to tell Phoebe about the visit Amanda had paid to him. He did not know what caused this outburst of honesty, but something was telling him Phoebe deserved to know he was trying to get rid of his ex-wife for good.

“I’m probably not allowed to say this, but your wife really has a nerve,” Phoebe responded when he told her about the demands Amanda had. “She can’t blackmail you.”

“Well, she technically doesn’t blackmail me,” Michael sighed. “She wants her part from our divorce, but I don’t think we were equal once we were together, so… Her deal is not appealing to me, but at the same time, I need her to sign these goddamn papers as soon as possible.”

“Why?” Phoebe raised her brow questioningly. “What’s so urgent?” 

“Are you really asking me that?”

She nodded in response. 

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with the fact you’re eating tacos with a married man,” he explained. “Well, technically married, a  _ one-sign-away-from-divorce _ man.”

Phoebe let out a small chuckle. “I didn’t know eating tacos with a married man is not socially acceptable,” she said, tucking the strand of her hair behind her ear. “Though, you made it sound as if it was adultery.”

“Not that we're not guilty of that, too. Um, technically,” Michael marked and fell silent. “For the record, I really liked what we did even if I’ll be damned for it.”

“You did?” Phoebe asked, dropping her eyes. “I thought I made a massive fool out of myself… You know, after what I said.” 

“Hey,” his left hand cupped her right cheek, making her look at him, “you didn’t make a fool out of yourself.”

“Didn’t I? I mean I shouldn’t have said it back then, but I… Whenever I’m around you I don’t really think straight,” she confessed. “But I… I really liked what we did, too.”

Michael did not reply for the first few seconds, staring at her as if she was a work of art. He began wondering whether he would ever get tired of looking at this pretty face, dark eyes and sweet lips. 

And then, he reminded himself of the words Amanda had spoken to him the other day.

_ There’s no sane woman who would want a man like you. _

And out of sudden, he felt a need to find out if these words were true.

“Would you...” he hesitated, unsure what he wanted to ask her. “Would you like to do it again?” He chickened out, realising he was not ready to ask her what he really wanted.

A smirk appeared on her face as she rubbed her cheek against the palm of his hand. 

“With a  _ one-sign-away-from-divorce  _ man?” she questioned when suddenly, her phone started vibrating on the bench. 

She peeked down at the screen curious who dared to disturb this moment she and Michael had. To their surprise, because Michael could not help and look at her phone, too, it was Daniel.

“Pick up,” Michael said when Dan called again after Phoebe had not picked up his first call “It seems urgent.”

Phoebe looked at the phone, then at Michael and the phone again. “Fine,” she stated then picked up, placing her mobile right next to her ear. “What do you want?” she asked, hoping her brother would make it quick. 

However, with every passing second, her face was getting paler as her brother was saying something Michael could not hear over the phone. After about thirty seconds, she hung up and her eyes were automatically filled up with tears. 

“What happened?” Michael asked in a concerned voice. “Phoebe, what happ--”

“My mom… My mom’s dead,” she uttered, “and I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the longest chapters I've ever written, I swear--


	14. Déjà vu

When something horrible happens in one's life, time seems to slow down. 

Phoebe thought the time stopped when two days later she was standing over her mother’s grave in the Vinewood Cemetery. She was wearing a plain, black dress and matching stilettos and the tears were streaming down her cheeks, smudging the mascara she had put on her lashes earlier this afternoon.

After she called back Daniel when she got home two days ago, her brother told her the reason their mother passed was a semi heart attack. He also mentioned something about the doctors saying there was nothing they could do or at least, they claimed they could not.

She was having a _déjà vu_. 

It was not the first time Phoebe heard such an explanation. She had heard it before and back then her heart was broken almost as much as it was now. No matter what feelings she had towards her mother, it was still her mother. Before things went down, they had been living a good life as a family. Once she thought about it, she realised she did not appreciate it enough while it lasted.

Shame these days would never go back. 

She sighed deeply, squeezing Michael's hand tighter. She could feel her brother’s glare on her when she leaned her head against Michael's shoulder, letting herself have this moment of weakness in public. 

She did not ask Michael to come with her to the funeral. She did not ask him for anything and yet, he gave her all he had. He did not leave; he did not quit, even though he could have when Phoebe wanted to cut herself off from everyone. 

He stayed. 

He stayed with her and let her cry on his shoulder as long as she needed, making sure she had everything she wanted within the last two days. 

He did it not only because he felt sorry for her, but because he could not even think about leaving her all alone with her thoughts in her apartment. Knowing everything she had been through in her life, he found it to be the perfect opportunity for him to take care of her. 

To make it up for her in a way. 

“We are gathered here today to honour the memory of Mary Harris. It’s only natural that we should be sad today, because, in a practical sense, Mary is no longer a part of our lives…” The priest started, but Phoebe could not focus on what he was saying. She was staring at the coffin blankly, hoping this funeral would be over quickly.

She could not take more pain; standing there and realising she would never see her mother again was too painful. _Maybe one day…_ were the last words Mary said to her daughter and while Phoebe was standing over her mother’s grave, these words could not leave her head. 

_Maybe one day we’ll meet again, mom,_ she thought then shut her eyes when the coffin began disappearing into the ground. She turned her head away, letting her tears turn into a sniffling, which grew into sobs that shook her whole body. 

“Come here,” Michael coaxed, wrapping his arms around her once she buried her face in his chest. “I’m right here, Phoebe,” he whispered to her ear. “I’m here…” With a spare hand, he was caressing her back. “I’m here.”

“I can’t watch this,” Phoebe’s lips were trembling as she spoke, “I can’t—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he replied, pulling her even closer to him. “You’re gonna get through this. You don’t have to look, you know? I’ll tell you once when it’s done.”

“O-okay,” she stuttered, trying to take a deep breath. “Thank you.”

The ceremony had lasted for a few more minutes before it was done, giving her some time to calm down. She wiped off her cheeks and eyes with a tissue and took a moment to watch the coffin being buried, even if her heart was breaking. 

“Phoebe?” She felt a hand on her shoulder and heard a voice that she instantly recognised. 

“Murphy?” she asked, letting go of Michael’s hand and turning to the person who had just spoken to her. “How—What are you doing here?”

“Daniel informed me,” the man replied. “Turns out your brother has a tiny dose of decency in himself after all. Please, accept my sincere condolences.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect to see you here,” she added, hugging him, “though I’m glad you came.”

Murphy was a man in his sixties, but if Phoebe did not know that she would never tell it, basing on the way he looked. He had not changed much since the last time she saw him, a few weeks after her father’s burial. Well, maybe his dark hair and stubble got a little more grey, but he was still smiling the way she remembered.

“So, I’ve already spoken to Daniel,” Murphy said after Phoebe had pulled away, stepping back to Michael, who was carefully watching them both. “Nothing has changed between you two throughout the years, I assume.”

“Yeah… You know well how tough Dan can be,” Phoebe replied, then realised she had forgotten about the fact Michael had no clue who she was talking to. “Oh, I forgot to introduce you,” she turned to Michael. “Mike, this is my father’s best friend and also, my godfather, Murphy. Murphy,” she moved to the other man, “this is Michael, he’s…” She was looking for a word, not really knowing how to introduce him. 

“I’m Phoebe’s friend,” Michael had finished before the silence became uncomfortable. “Pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand to shake Murphy’s. “Michael de Santa.”

“Murphy Carter,” Murphy responded then shook Michael’s hand. “Likewise.” He sent Phoebe a meaningful look, feeling there was more to it than Michael being just her friend, but held himself back from saying it out loud. 

It was not his business nor did he have the right to comment. 

“Are you planning on staying in Los Santos for long?” Phoebe asked, hoping to avoid answering inconvenient questions about her and Michael and breaking the deafening silence.

“No, I’m here just for a few days and I’m going back to Liberty City,” he responded. “You know, the work is calling.”

“I know,” she nodded. “How is it going, by the way?”

“Great. Transferring there a few years ago was definitely a good choice.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Yeah… Anyway, I won't take more of your time. I just wanted to check on you, kid, but I see your _friend_ is already taking good care of you,” he glanced at Michael. “If you need anything you know who to call, right? My number hasn’t changed in years.”

“I know,” she replied. “I’ll call. I promise.”

“It was nice to see you two,” he told them. “Shame we didn’t meet under different circumstances. Again, I’m truly sorry for your loss, Phoebe and I’ll be waiting for that call.”

He had smiled at them both before he walked away and there were only a few more people left at the cemetery. Most of them were friends of Mary and except Daniel, there were no more relatives. 

When Phoebe’s eyes returned to her brother, who was still glaring at them both, she could not tell whether he was madder at her or Michael, but she did not care, either. She had every right to bring Michael with her, so Daniel could go to hell with all the grievances he had. 

“You know, maybe staying in the car wasn't such a bad idea,” Michael said out of sudden, making Phoebe look at him. “I’m pretty sure your brother isn’t pleased I’m here.”

“I’m pretty sure he isn’t pleased, too, but I don’t give a damn. You’ve been there for me for the last days and you have every right to be here with me,” she replied and her hand reached for his cheek to caress it gently. “I can’t express how grateful I am for having you here with me.” 

“That’s least I could do. To be here with you,” he told her and a weak smile appeared on her face. “Do you want to stay a little longer or to go home?”

Phoebe dared to look once more at her brother’s angry face then, once she realised she did not give a damn about him anymore, she replied:

“I want to go home.”

* * *

“When I said I want to go home I meant my place,” Phoebe said when Michael parked in front of his mansion a few minutes later. “Seriously, Michael, I think you need to take a break and rest…”

“I don’t need a break from you,” he responded. “Besides, how could you possibly think I would let you be alone now? No. Not an option. You’re stuck with me.”

“But I’m fine,” she whined. “I… I can call Amy and ask her to come and spend some time with me if that would make you feel calmer.”

“Fine? Phoebe, I’ve been with you for the past days and… I… I’m just calmer when I’m close to you. We don’t have to talk, but I don’t want you to be alone, looking at the walls of your apartment. We can do whatever you want, but… Together, okay? I’ve just got you back and I… I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t lose me. I know the last two days were horrible and it’s going to be hard for me for some time, but… I just need some time to process everything. Last weeks were hectic and now this… I don’t want you to think you’re responsible for me. I’m a big girl.”

“Can you be _a big girl_ on my couch?” Michael looked at her the way that made it impossible for her to say _no_. “For the sake of my sanity.”

“Okay,” Phoebe replied quietly, then she got out of the car. “Listen, Mike... If you do this to redeem yourself in my eyes or something I just want you to know you don’t have to—” she said once she joined him on the other side of his Tailgater but did not manage to finish. 

“Haven’t it crossed your mind for a second that I simply care about you?” Michael asked, angrier than he intended, “or that I might also have the slightest idea how it is to lose someone important and I just don’t want you to get through this alone?” His tone became bitter and that was when Phoebe knew she should not have said what she did. “I know you’re used to doing everything on your own, but you don’t have to do it on your own anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Michael. It's just... No one has ever done as much for me as you did and I guess it’s something that overwhelms me," she responded, hanging her head.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said while his fingers reached her chin and tilted it up, so she was looking him in the eyes. “Just let me help you or just… Be there for you.” She nodded in response. “Shall we go inside?” Another nod. 

Michael did not push her to talk. 

Once they went inside, he poured her a drink and handed it to her when she made herself comfortable on his white leather couch. Then, he made a drink for himself and downed it quickly before he even joined Phoebe in the living room. 

When he returned to her, she was lying on the side, covered with a red blanket that once used to be Amanda's favourite, but when she moved out, she forgot to take it with her. 

Phoebe had her eyes closed and the glass he had handed her a few minutes earlier was placed next to the couch, empty. She probably was not sleeping, but Michael did not dare to check. He took off his dark jacket and joined her on the couch; he could not resist the urge to brush this strand of hair away from her face and tucked it gently behind her right ear. 

He tried to nap, but he could not. 

He could not sleep when Phoebe was next to him and knew she was not feeling well. 

A lot was going on in his mind at that moment, too. 

Last days were hard for him. Mainly because of what had happened to Phoebe but also because this divorce thing he was dealing with. His attorneys were doing their best to help him finish this divorce thing he had been struggling with for a few months now, but there was a lot of work to do. Truth to be told, it would be much easier for him if she, this charming lady who was napping by his side, did not appear in his life. 

She was here, right next to him and Michael did not want to wait for any second longer for his almost-ex wife to sign those stupid papers. 

The fact he was technically still married caused too many problems already. It made Phoebe take a step back soon after things got _good_ between them. 

It almost ruined everything they had. 

However, it was just the tip of an iceberg.

His other lies were still hidden and waiting to be revealed like a skeleton in the closet.

* * *

_Adrenaline._

_After the last score, Michael promised himself not to get into trouble for some time, but when he picked up a call from Trevor, he knew the trouble was coming at him from around the corner._

_He could not decline it._

_He could not help himself and when Trevor mentioned something about an easy job with an even easier profit, he agreed on helping his friend in need._

_Michael was bored._

_This shot of adrenaline he felt whenever he was doing what he was the best at was something he could not refuse. His calm life was comfortable, but he hated stagnation. Sitting by the pool in his expensive mansion was not enough for him, or at least, was not enough to make him feel good._

_He needed more._

_Trevor assured him it would be easy. It was to some point, but he should have known better than to believe there would be no complications. There always had to be some complications, right?_

_These guys, the ones Trevor wanted to eliminate, somehow knew they were coming, so there was no element of surprise. There was the attack. There was a defence. There was also much brutality, but deep inside, Michael expected nothing less from Trevor._

_Then, the chase began._

_They were rushing through the city, trying to stop these guys from escaping, but it was not easy. To a fire, they responded with fire and had no mercy. So did Trevor. Michael, on the other hand, wanted to let them go, but it was too late for that._

_“It’s all or nothing, Mikey!” Trevor told him over the phone then hung up, leaving the decision to his friend._

_He wanted to let go._

_He truly did._

_Just when he was about to press the brake, someone shot his windshield, making it crash into thousands of tiny pieces. He had taken a few shots in the dark before his car turned as one of the tires burst. The car stopped several dozens meters away; it got him a while to get out, pissed and angry at this situation. Then, in the dark, he noticed someone. A woman. She was lying on the pavement all in blood and that was also when he realised it was his fault._

_“Fuck,” he cursed loudly and hurried in her direction._

_When he reached her, she was already unconscious. Her light jeans were more red than light at this point and right next to her hand, there was a mobile phone._

_Michael knew two things: he could not help her and that it was bad._

_It was bad and it was his fault. He should not have shot in the dark, assuming there was no one around on the street; he should have stayed in his mansion and poured whiskey in his throat for the rest of his miserable life._

_He should have listened to the people who were telling him to stay away from troubles._

_But what he should have done was one thing while the other was what he actually did._

_He reached out for her phone and once he wiped the blood off it, he dialled the emergency number._

_“911. What’s your emergency?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo.... I'm kinda glad I managed to finish this one so soon, that's for sure.
> 
> Please, tell me your thoughts, because I don't know--I really enjoy writing it, but the real question is - do you enjoy reading? I'm dying to know, so, don't hesitate to share your thoughts with me. 💖
> 
> Yeah... As always, I hope you enjoy this one!


	15. Crumble And Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one trigger warning for this chapter: **bruises**. There's no much description, they're mostly mentioned, but I feel this need to warn you.

Michael could not find a place for himself.

After a very short and restless nap, he was even more nervous and haunted by some disturbing thoughts that could not leave his head. He dreamed of the night he met Phoebe and reminded himself about what he had done, which made him feel horrible. It made him feel as if he was the worst man walking on the planet or at least, in Los Santos.

He could not name all the emotions that he was bottling up inside. He had never been good at explaining how he felt and it did not change within the years. He kept staring blankly at the ceiling of his living room and that was when he realised he had no clue about what he was doing. 

He thought he had everything under control, but apparently, he had not. Things were going their own ways and there was nothing he could control anymore. Even this illusion of control was slipping out of his hand, making him feel powerless. 

Maybe Trevor was right when he called him a  _ soft cunt  _ the other day. 

Maybe the older he was, the softer he got, but the main problem was he did not want to be soft. He wanted to be tough, powerful, strong - everything a man like him should have been.

He got up from the couch where Phoebe was peacefully sleeping and walked to the kitchen island in the other room, reaching out for a spare glass and a whiskey bottle. Once he poured himself one, he immediately downed it and repeated this action a few times, stopping just when he realised there was half of a bottle gone. He did not care about it for long, though. A moment later, he grabbed what was left of it and went outside, letting the cool evening air fill his lungs before he sat down on one of the loungers by the pool. 

Michael had taken a few sips of whiskey before he put it down on the ground and reached out for the pack of cigarettes that he had left under the lounger the other day. He took one out and lit it, taking a long puff at his cigarette. He had held it into his lungs for a while before he puffed out a cloud of smoke.

While he was sitting over there, staring miserably ahead for a change and thinking about everything that had happened, he realised he could not go on like this forever. He had to do something, anything, to get this sense of control back in his life. He had to do something to feel like he was in charge of his life, not anyone else. 

He had to do something to not be seen as a miserable, old man who had built all his life on lies even if that was exactly who he was.

Michael was sitting over there and contemplating over his life when out of sudden, without any warning, he felt someone’s arms wrapping around his chest. He flinched at this unexpected touch and turned his head back abruptly. 

“It’s me,” Phoebe said softly, resting her chin on his right shoulder. “I hope I didn’t scare you.” 

“You didn’t,” Michael responded, trying not to show her she did, in fact, scare him a little. “I was lost in thought and didn’t hear you coming.”

“What were you thinking about so intensely?” 

“Nothing much,” he tried to trail her off. “The past days were rough and I needed some time to think. How do you feel?”

“Not bad. I’ve been better, but this nap did me good,” she replied, then noticed a bottle of whiskey standing on the ground, next to the lounger. “Oh, I see you also wanted to drown all your sorrows.”

“I kinda did.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“In drowning sorrows?”

“Yeah,” Phoebe nodded then moved in front of him, sitting down on the other lounger. “I also want to apologise for what I said earlier.” She reached out for the bottle and took a sip, indulging in the familiar burning, sweet taste. “I don’t know what got into me. I know you do everything you can to help,” she added once she put the bottle down. 

“Help? Phoebe, I don’t know what I’m doing,” Michael shook his head, and this time, he was the one to reach out for the bottle. “I’ve never felt so powerless in my entire life.”

“Well, not knowing what you’re doing seems to work just right.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” he had replied and taken the last puff before he threw what was left of his cigarette away. 

“Just for the record, I think you’re doing your best, and I’m truly grateful for everything you do,” she said once he set his eyes on her, “even if you’re just my  _ friend _ .”

“I knew you would bring it up at some point.” Michael rolled up his eyes. “What else did you expect me to say, hmm?”

“I honestly don’t know what I expected,” she responded, letting herself to be straightforward with him. “Would you like that?” she asked after a period of silence.

“What exactly?”

“Being just friends,” she specified, and he sighed deeply.

“No. I feel too good around you,” he confessed, and then a short laugh escaped his mouth. 

“What is in that bottle?” She reached out for the whiskey Michael was holding in his left hand. “Why doesn’t it have the same magic effect on me it has on you?” she coughed after taking a big sip and wiping her lips with the inner side of her right hand. 

“You had too little of it,” Michael told her. “I’m serious, Phoebe. I… Fuck. I like you, okay? I like you so much, I wish I could tell you everything about me.”

She took a moment to process what he had just said. 

“Well, in that case, I would say… Do it,” she said quietly, but loud enough for him to hear every word clearly. “Tell me everything you want to say.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“You would hate  _ everything _ .”

“And what makes you think I would?” Phoebe questioned, moving back onto the lounger Michael was sitting on and joined him by his side. 

“It makes me hate myself sometimes. Why would it be different with you?” 

“I’m not you,” she responded when he looked at her questioningly. “I don’t see you the way you see yourself, because I have a completely different perspective.”

Michael did not reply. Instead, he sighed deeply, searching for a response, but he could not find any. There was a war in his mind, and the fact that he had drunk more than he probably should have was not making it easier for him. He was not thinking clearly, letting his feelings take control over his mind. 

“What’s going on this mind of yours?” Phoebe asked, dragging his attention back to her.

“It’s nothing,” he said after a moment, feeling the pressure to reply. “Forget I said anything.”

“Too late. Finish what you started or else—”

“Or else what?” he snapped at her. “Or else what, Phoebe?” he repeated his question, making her instinctively back off. 

No matter how badly Michael wanted to get all these things that were bothering out of his chest, he was blocked, and it only increased the level of his frustration. He got up intending to leave before he would do or say something he would definitely regret later, but Phoebe was far from letting him go like this.

It was not easy for her, too. Not only because of the loss of her mother but also because she had no idea where she was standing. Everything in her life seemed so temporary, nothing was granted and, above all, she was tired of living in this constant unknown. Losing her mother made her also realise she was not able to lose anyone else. She could not afford to lose another person that could possibly care for her.

She got up, too, and followed Michael to the kitchen where he was leaning against the counter with his face buried in his hands.

“I think you should ask yourself one fundamental question, which is what the hell you really want from life, Michael,” she stated, stopping a few meters away from him. 

She saw his body tensing at the sound of her voice as he turned towards her. Then, he looked at her the way he had never looked at her before. “I want--” He stopped, closing his eyes and shaking his head slowly. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“What do you want?” she repeated in a firm tone and Michael made a few steps towards her, closing the distance between them. “For god’s sake, it can’t be that hard--”

“Phoebe, don’t--”

“Please, just answer this goddamn question!” She let the nerves take control over her, and as she rarely shouted, this time, she did. “You’re driving me insane when I ask you something, and you trail me off every damn time!”

“Has it crossed your mind that I might not want to talk about it?!” Michael seemed to lose control over his tone, either. 

“It has, but for the love of God, how hard is telling what  _ you  _ want?!” 

“You really want to know? You, Phoebe, I want you!” he blurted. “I want you, but I know you’re gonna leave me! Everyone who knows me leaves! The woman who was my wife for years hates me, my kids hate me, even my psychopath friend hates me, because they all know who I am!”

“So what? You want me to hate you, too, before I even get to know you? That’s also something that you want?” Her dark eyes were shining from tears, and she was at the edge of her patience. 

“No.” His voice got quieter.

“Do you want me to leave?” Phoebe dared to ask, feeling her heart pounding in her chest.

“No.” He could feel the tension growing bigger and bigger between them as he kept staring in her eyes. “I… I want you to get to know the real me and don’t leave,” he said after a moment that felt like forever. “You look at me with your dark eyes and make me… Feel. Not that I’ve never felt anything before, because I have, but… I think through all these years, I got used to not feeling anything...” He sighed and wanted to say something more when she pressed her lips against his, not letting him finish. 

It was not that she did not want to hear what he had to say. She did, but some things seemed to be more urgent at that moment, and one of these things was her need to kiss him, wrap her arms around his neck and pull him close to her trembling body, she could not control any longer. 

As long as  _ this _ had a chance to end up with them both having sex, Michael was not opposing, either. He eagerly kissed her back, tasting her lips on his and feeling her warm breath on his chin once she pulled away for a moment to glance at him. 

“I want you, Phoebe,” Michael whispered. “I want you, I want you, I want you,” he had repeated like a prayer before he leaned for another kiss without waiting for a response from her. He assumed she felt the same about it as he did. 

In fact, she did, even if the part of her knew it was going nowhere.

Instead of doing  _ this _ , they should have talked like two mature adults would have, but emotions took control over them, and nothing else seemed as more right than this at that moment. It could not have ended up differently than in his bedroom where Michael carried her, not letting her out of his arms for a second. 

Once she hit the sheets, she knew there was no going back from this point. Nothing except Michael seemed not to matter for her, anyway. After he had thrown her on his bed, he backed off, struggling with the buttons of his black shirt while Phoebe took off her black dress and a seconds later, their clothes fell on the floor. Only then she realised he had not seen her completely naked before, even if they had sex before it was different then. 

Now she was lying on his bed, exposed to him, only in her underwear, which was not covering much. He parted her legs with his left as he hovered over her to kiss her, teasing her delicate skin on her belly with his undone belt.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmured as he moved from her lips to her neck. She felt him kissing and biting the skin under her left ear, leaving a mark over there. Then, he got down to work, pulling her up a little, so he could unhook her bra and throw it aside. After a moment of gazing at her naked breast, he moved to her laced panties and yanked them down, smirking like a boy who just got his dreamed gift.

Just as her panties joined her bra on the floor, he moved up, and once he leaned down, he whispered to her ear: “On all fours, baby.”

And so, she obeyed, feeling this spark of excitement in her lower belly when he pressed her back gently and positioned himself right behind her. His fingers brushed her down there, making him realise there was no need for their foreplay to last any second longer. However, he could not deny himself this pleasure of touching her there.

He had full control over her at that moment, and he loved that. He loved having control and Phoebe was willing to give him what he wanted. 

She pressed her right cheek against the mattress and waited for Michael to make a move. He took his time, stroking her back with one of his hands and with the other, he was brushing her folds, but not moving any further till out of sudden, he slid two fingers inside her. She moaned quietly and tried to lift herself a bit, but Michael’s hand kept her in place. “Don’t move.” His fingers were sliding in and out of her slowly for a while. “You like that?” 

She nodded. 

“Very well.”

He had slid his fingers out and brushed them against her inner thighs before he reached to his nightstand. Then, he grabbed a condom from the drawer. “Let’s have some more fun, hmm?” he hummed, unzipping his pants and yanking them down to his knees along with his boxers. 

He gave himself a few long strokes then rolled the condom on. “Baby, you sure you want this?” he asked just to be sure as, despite all, her consent had a fundamental value for him. 

Phoebe propped herself on her elbows and turned her face towards him. “Yes.”

He moved closer to her and positioned his full-mast member at her entrance then slid it all the way inside, making her moan again. However, this moan was different than the one he had heard earlier. It was a more painful one, so he pushed it gradually a few more times, giving her some time to adjust to his size and this whole new sensation. After that, he pushed her down to the mattress, picking up the pace he preferred.

Fast. 

It was not long before Phoebe was a moaning mess, which was music to Michael’s ears as he kept slamming into her from behind with so much force her body jerked forward with every thrust. He was holding her hips firmly, digging his fingers into her flesh a little too hard, and that was when Phoebe whined and wriggled under him. He was too focused on his own pleasure to notice that something could be wrong, though.

It felt so good for him. 

Phoebe could have said something, but she did not want him to stop. He was rough, maybe too rough at some point, but she was ready to take anything just so he would not stop. 

She wanted him, soft or rough, it did not matter. 

Just so he would not leave her. 

Her heart could not take it.

“Fuckin’a, baby,” Michael groaned behind her and eventually loosened his grip on her hips as he came after a while. He pulled his cock out of her slowly then bent down again and reached to her wetness and applied pressure on her clit, making slow circles on it. “You didn’t think we’re done, did you?” he asked when her body jerked uncontrollably, her hands clenched the sheets, and she pressed her face against the mattress to mute her moans. “Up,” he commanded and pulled her up, so she was again propping on her elbows. “Let me hear that.” 

“Jesus, Michael, fuck—” she whimpered, and her body trembled under her weight as Michael kept circling her clit mercilessly. 

“Come for me, baby,” he coaxed, and that was when she lost it. She whined loudly, helplessly and her body jolted as she reached her peak. “That’s right,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Good girl.” 

She was breathing heavily as her body fell uncontrollably on the mattress, still feeling Michael’s hand where he had held her a moment ago. She was hot, her cheeks were burning red, and it took a while to normalise her breath. Michael used this opportunity to walk out the bedroom and get himself cleaned in the bathroom, leaving Phoebe naked in his sheets. 

Just as her breath stabilised, Michael returned and eagerly joined her back in the bed, quickly realising something was wrong. There were reddish bruises on her hips, and when she turned her head towards him, he noticed the left side of her neck was also in his bite marks.

“Did I do this to you?” he asked with horror in his voice. That was when he also looked at her hips. “Phoebe, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s okay,” she told him, seeing a concentration on his face. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” she repeated, not letting him explain himself. “I’m okay.”

“It doesn’t look  _ okay,  _ Phoebe,” he marked, moving closer to her to examine her bruised hips. “I didn’t know—Fuck!”

“Michael, you didn’t do it on purpose,” she told him, instantly covering herself with a quilt, so he stopped looking at them. “Things like that… Happens.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” His voice was quiet. “I would never… I would never hurt you on purpose.”

“I know.” She sat up to reach his face and caressed his right cheek gently. There was a short stubble on it, and she loved this rough feeling under her fingertips as they were brushing his skin. “I know, Mikey,” she repeated once he started kissing the palm of her right hand tenderly.

Phoebe smiled at him gently when he moved to her neck, brushing the places where he had marked her with his lips as if he believed his kisses could erase them from her skin. 

In fact, that was what he wanted to do even though he knew it was impossible.

From the urge of control, he went to the state where he realised it could not necessarily control he truly needed in his life.

It could be something else. 

Something simple. Or maybe, someone.

There was a chance this missing element in his life was someone who would see good in him just when he could not see any good at all.

Michael thought about it as a few minutes later he turned off the bedside lamp and they both laid down nestled up against each other. He thought about it long after Phoebe had fallen asleep in his arms and realised she was this certain someone for him. 

He also realised she made him feel all the things he thought, he would never feel again, but at that moment, he was too tipsy to be scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! I want to apologise you in advance for all typos I missed in this chapter. Well, I'm definitely stepping out of my comfort zone, writing longer chapters and trying out new things... Hopefully, you will like it (I'm keeping my fingers crossed for it). 
> 
> As always, I want to thank you so much for reading and I would be extremely grateful if you shared your thoughts with me in comments - it's always a pleasure to read what you, guys, think! 😊🌹


	16. The Lion's Den

When Phoebe woke up the next morning, she did not know how she felt. Whether she was happy or sad, she had no clue - all she knew was that the last night happened and it was real. The bruises on her hips could not be more real when she looked under the quilt and examined places where Michael’s hands had been last night. Her hand reached out to the left side of her neck and even though she could not see it, she knew there was a bite mark, right under her ear. 

She did not make this up. It happened, for real.

In one second, she felt overwhelmed by her thoughts, and that was when she realised it had all gone wrong. She should have known sleeping with him would not solve any of the issues she had - or at least - it would not solve them for long. The last night should not have happened, even if part of her wanted that and enjoyed it.

When she slept with Michael for the first time, she had no idea he was still married. When she slept with him last night, she knew, but it did not stop her, either. It was morally wrong, she knew that, but she could not stop her feelings towards him. Maybe it would have been wiser if she ended this relationship when she had a chance after finding out about his wife. 

Maybe. 

Maybe that would have been wiser, but at this point, this chance was long gone.

Then, she also realised she did not know Michael well. Of course, she knew the basic things about him, but that was it. Somehow, they did not have much time to talk about him, focusing all on her, and the other thing was that she did not need much to get attached to someone. 

It was one of the reasons she was often hurt. 

She never learned from her mistakes. She was always willing to give a chance to someone, who usually did not deserve it. She kept giving second chances to people who did not deserve her just because she did not want to get left behind. 

It was hard to swallow, but that was who she became during all these years. The confident girl was replaced by a naive one, who preferred being hurt rather than being abandoned. She desperately wanted someone to stay and to be with her instead of leaving at the first possible occasion.

She reminded herself of her father’s words. He told her that one day she would learn from her mistakes, but he was so wrong. She would never learn. 

“Good morning,” Michael said sleepily, dragging her out of thought. “Is everything alright, baby? How do you feel?”

“Good morning,” she responded feebly. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”

“Don’t worry about you? Nah, not possible.” He smiled gently as she rolled to the side, so she could look at him in a more comfortable position. “I’m so sorry for what happened yesterday, Phoebe. I… It’s my fault.”

“Stop beating yourself up and apologising to me every few seconds,” Phoebe said to him, trying to sound confident. “It’s as your fault as it’s mine. I could’ve said something, but I didn’t. I didn’t say anything, because I enjoyed myself. I was thinking of you as a tender type, but apparently, I got the wrong impression on that matter. Not that I don’t like tenderness, slow dancing, gifts, you taking care of me…”

“I can be tender if you want,” he offered willingly. 

“But this rough and raw side of you, it’s extremely attractive,” she continued, ignoring his offer. 

“This  _ rough and raw _ side of me got you all bruised,” he countered. “I don’t know what’s attractive about it.” For a few seconds, he turned his sight away, escaping Phoebe’s dark eyes. “I think we both know it shouldn’t have happened. Not like this, at least. I should’ve been there for you yesterday when you needed me.” 

“But you were there for me, Michael. You’ve been there from the very beginning,” she opposed. “The fact you had a bad day doesn’t make you a bad person. The fact you accidentally hurt me doesn’t make you a bad person and I won’t blame you for it.”

“If that’s comforting, you did an excellent job at distracting me, so I wasn’t thinking about anything else that was bothering me,” she added after a moment. “I was so angry at you that at some point it was all I could think about. I wanted to talk while you kept trailing me off and believe me, it was frustrating.”

“I meant it when I said there are things I don’t want to talk about, Phoebe.”

“What could possibly be so hard to talk about that you can’t even talk about it to  _ me _ ?” 

Michael sighed. He wished he could say it all to her, to confess everything he was hiding from her, but he could not. He did not want to risk it all. He did not want to risk losing her, because, no matter how ridiculous that was, he got attached to her along the way. She was the spark of hope in his life; a proof his life did not have to look the way it did for years. 

He could be happy. With her, happiness seemed so easy to achieve. 

“There are plenty of things to do in bed and you’re choosing to talk?” 

“It’s not what I asked about,” she quickly noticed. 

“I know, but I don’t feel like talking about it right now,” he said quietly and she looked down, pretty much disappointed with the answer she received.

His left hand reached and caressed her right cheek, making her lift the corner of her lips in a half-smile. She could not help herself, his touch was making her weak; and at the end of the day, despite all her mind knew, her heart wanted him.

And then, out of sudden, another thought intruded her mind and made her think of something that had been bothering for a while, even if she did not want it; even if she thought she was completely fine with not knowing the answer for it.

“So, there’s this thing I’ve been thinking about… Last night and the other one we spent together… What did they mean to you?” From the look on his face, it was obvious he did not expect such a question from her. “I mean…” Phoebe added, feeling she should not have asked, but she went further since she already started. “You and I… Is this long term?”

There was no chance he could avoid answering these questions.

“I don’t know, Phoebe… I… I wish it was more than a few nights' stands.” Michael was not really thinking, so he told her the first thing that came to his mind. He told her the truth. “I wish I could declare myself, but you know my situation. It’s not that easy.”

Phoebe did not know what to reply, so she remained silent. She did not know what she had expected, but it definitely was not something she had just heard.  _ Situation? _ An easy excuse to prevent himself from telling her how he felt about her. 

“I need to go out and get some fresh air… Or a cigarette. I ain’t sure yet.” She searched for an excuse to leave immediately, fearing if she would not leave, she would burst into tears in front of him.

“There’s a pack in my jacket,” Michael replied, rolling onto his back and letting out a loud sigh. “I’ll join you in a moment, okay?”

Phoebe nodded and carefully sat at the edge of the bed, reaching out for her undergarments and the black shirt Michael had thrown on the floor last night. She put it on her arms, covered her back with it, and quickly left the bedroom.

She marched downstairs and reached the doors that were leading to the backyard. She opened them and was about to cross the threshold when she heard an unknown woman’s voice coming from the living room.

She froze as if she was caught red-handed and slowly turned towards the source of the sound.

No way. It could not be...

“I don’t even know to say except my husband has a fucking nerve to bring you here,” the woman said in a stone-cold voice. She was more or less Michael’s age, dressed in a white tennis suit and matching sneakers. Her brown hair was pinned in a ponytail, and her light green eyes were staring right back at Phoebe, who was now standing turned towards her, covering herself with Michael’s shirt.

“I’m Amanda. Amanda de Santa,” she introduced herself, “but you probably figured it out, didn’t you?”

Phoebe felt a gulp in her throat as she replied: “I did.” 

“I wish I could say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but we both know it’s not.”

“Maybe if we met under other circumstances.”

“Maybe,” Amanda faked a smile. “At least now I understand why my husband fancies you. You’re so his type. A little, slender girl he can easily dominate. You don’t ask questions and do what he asks for. I can feel you’ve already had a taste of it,” she pointed, tapping the left side of her neck with his pointing finger and making Phoebe cover the bitemark she had with her hair. “Anyway, where’s he?”

“Upstairs,” Phoebe answered shortly. “Listen,” she added, finding the courage to speak up. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Michael, but from what he told me, you and he are pretty much done.”

“Oh, are we? Michael mentioned something about the divorce, but well, he’s not the only one to decide.” Her words were filled with confidence. “I know my  _ husband _ .” She was doing her best to make this particular word sound louder than the others. “I know who he is. I know he likes distractions, but trust me... At the end of the day, he always comes back to me. His wife. So, if I were you, I wouldn’t take his words too seriously.” 

Phoebe glared at her, not expecting her words to hurt her this much. It was as if she knew exactly what was bothering Phoebe and had no boundaries holding her back from using it. Little did she know, Amanda was not planning on stopping right there, too. Using the opportunity that just appeared, she continued: “I’m surprised you even want to deal with a man like Michael. This type is hard to handle.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve been handling him quite well so far.” Phoebe could stop herself from biting back. She knew Amanda was telling her all these things to get on her nerves, but at the same time, she could not stop them.

“So, has he already told you that he didn’t get the mansion for being a, as he likes to call himself,  _ aspiring movie producer _ ?” Amanda asked, and from the look on Phoebe’s face, she knew the other woman had no clue what she was asking her about. “Poor girl, you have no idea who you’re dealing with. Let me tell you something, just between us, girls—”

“Amanda? What the hell are you doing here?” Michael asked once he entered the living room, buttoning a fresh white shirt he had just put on. 

“From what I remember... I live here,” she replied, without even bothering herself to look at him. “So do our kids if you forgot. Keep that in mind the next time you’re going to bring another woman to our bedroom.”

“It hasn’t been  _ our _ bedroom for some time now,” he marked, stopping closer to Phoebe and folding his arms. He had no idea Amanda was planning to come back home any time soon, so seeing her in the mansion was disturbing to him. The fact Phoebe was there, too, was making it even more difficult to handle. “What do you want? I guess you’re not here just because you want to ruin my morning.” He decided it would be wiser to go straight to the point instead of arguing with Amanda in front of Phoebe.

“You’re right. I dropped by to tell you I’m willing to sign divorce papers, but then, I saw your new girl and I changed my mind,” she turned around and grabbed a few sheets of paper that were lying on the kitchen table. Then, she tore them apart, letting the pieces fall on the floor. “I have a better idea now, and I’m certainly not going to make it easy for you.”

“Then the hard way, it is,” Michael hissed, clenching his fists. “That’s it?”

“Not yet.” Amanda took a step towards Phoebe, who instinctively took a step back. “As I was saying, you must have a thing for former robbers, dear. Maybe it’s time you ask Michael what he was doing till not so long ago instead of being just his...  _ plaything _ .”

And that was how Amanda dropped a bomb Michael was not ready for. He was so caught off guard, he did not know how to react while she continued speaking: “Don’t act so surprised. You had to wonder where all these good things come from, didn’t you?”

“Stop it,” Michael snapped at his wife, pointing the way out with his right hand. “Get out,” he added, and Amanda smiled in response. “Now!”

“Someone had to tell you, dear,” she said to Phoebe. “What you’re going to do about it, it’s up to you. Oh, and Michael,” she added, turning to him. “This ain’t over.” Amanda waved him goodbye and, without saying another word, she left. 

The sound of slammed doors followed her leaving.

When the silence filled the place, and they were left just in two, Michael turned to Phoebe, who was trying to gather her thoughts after what she had just witnessed. 

“Phoebe…”

“What was she talking about, Michael?” she asked him, feeling her legs tremble under her weight. 

She was scared. She was scared because she felt as if she did not know who was standing right in front of her, even if this face and voice were so familiar to her.

“Let me explain,” he said calmly, taking a step towards her to take her hand, but she withdrew it before he even managed to touch it. “Hey—”

“Don’t touch me,” she told him firmly. “What did she mean, Michael? What is it you’re not telling me?”

“I… Fuck. I wanted… I was waiting for a good moment...” He was searching for words, but somehow, they did not want to come. 

“You had a good moment yesterday. I asked you what was going on with you and you trailed me off… You had your chance, but you let it slip.” She shook her head, putting what Amanda said to her into one piece. “This house… The cars... It must’ve cost a fortune. I should’ve figured it out sooner… God, I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Phoebe, it’s my fault… Hear me out, please.”

“I don’t think I want to hear your explanation right now.” She looked down. “I sometimes… I think I don’t know you at all,” she confessed, feeling as if her worst nightmare was coming true at that moment. “I thought… I thought we had something… I don’t know what to think. I should’ve figured out something was wrong once Trevor stepped across this doorstep. This man always means trouble, doesn’t he?”

“Wait, you know Trevor?” This time it was Michael who got confused. 

“Unfortunately, I do. What surprises me is that Trevor didn’t say a word to you, Michael, especially after I turned him down, because I wanted to be loyal to you,” Phoebe puffed. 

“Wait, I don’t understand…”

“You don’t have to,” she replied and out of sudden, felt an urge to leave. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I want to go home, so I’m just gonna grab my things and leave, Mike. Please, don’t make me stay, I… I can’t do this—I can’t…” She had managed to say before she felt woozy. The world spun around her head, and it seemed as if for a moment, she lost control over her body. She did not know what was going on when she touched her nose and realised it was bleeding, but it made her even more scared.

“Hey, hey, I’m here…” She heard Michael saying once he grabbed her under the ribs. “I got you.” He helped her reach the couch and lay down. “Phoebe?” he asked once he crouched beside the white leathered couch. “Phoebe…”

But the second time he said her name, she could not recall.

* * *

_ I’m pathetic _ , Daniel thought as he opened another bottle of beer in his studio apartment in the middle of the desert. The air was dry and still, so it was hard to breathe in the heat; he took off his shirt, but it did not help much. His slim torso was all covered in drops of sweat, and there was no chance it would change any time soon. 

_ I’m all alone now. _ Daniel did not want to accept this nagging thought that had been keeping him awake for the few past days. He was not a soft type, but the loss of his mother broke him. The fact his sister did not even want to look at him was making him feel even worse. 

In fact, Phoebe did not want to have anything to do with him. After she had picked up his call, she did not talk to him again. Not even a single word. He dealt with all these formalities to their mother’s funeral on his own, and that was it. There was nothing left that was connecting him and Phoebe. 

_ Damn it.  _

It felt as if he did not know the person she was anymore. He saw the advertisement with her in one of these shitty tabloids he used to browse when he was bored and could not believe his eyes. Was she into modelling now? It was so not like her. Not like Phoebe. Even if she looked stunning in this photo, he knew it was not her world. Or was it? Many things had changed, so maybe that was one of them, too. 

The other thing he could not believe in was that Phoebe dared to bring her new guy to their mother’s funeral. He had never liked his sister’s boyfriends but this one... Daniel did not trust him - not that he could have any word on that matter. Maybe he was jealous? Or maybe, it was his brother’s intuition that was telling him this man, his sister was seeing, was no good. 

Or maybe he was just searching for a problem.

Trevor was right about one thing. 

It was a high time for him to grow up. 

His sister moved on, so why wouldn’t he do the same? He could not carry on like this forever, stuck in his apartment, licking wounds that probably would never fully heal. 

Daniel put away the bottle and, from the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out his phone. He scrolled through the contact list till he reached letter  _ T _ and stopped his thumb at the contact Dan had sworn he would never call again. 

He dialled the number and patiently waited on the line. 

“Daniel,” he heard a familiar voice. “You’re the last person I expected to hear from in my life. What the fuck you want?”

“I need… I need a job. A job I won’t screw this time,” Daniel responded directly, swallowing the rest of his dignity and pride. 

“And what makes you think I have one for you? After the last time, you still owe me.”

“I know, but I…”

“But what?”

“I’ve reached a dead end, Trevor. I have no one else to turn, but you,” Dan told him through the phone. “I want to get back on my feet and stop being…”

“A cunt?” Trevor interjected, and a scornful laugh followed his words. “That’s a goal, Daniel. I might contact you when I have a job for you, but no promises.”

“Thanks, Trevor,” Daniel responded. “You won’t regret that.”

“I guess we’ll see about that,” Trevor said, and for a few seconds none of them spoke a word. “I’ve heard about your mother, by the way. I’m sorry about her. She was a good woman. How is Phoebe—”

“Thanks for your condolences. I don’t want to talk about Phoebe, though,” he cut Trevor off. “We’re not each other’s problems anymore.”

“I can’t quite believe that, but so be it.” Daniel could hear a note of surprise in Trevor’s voice. “We’re in touch, Dan,” he added then hung up. 

Daniel put away the phone on the brown, worn couch and leaned his back against the cushion. He let out a sigh, biting his bottom lip and thinking about what he had done. What was supposed to help him get back on his feet felt like a walk straight in the lion’s den. 

Scary. 

But a man, who had nothing to lose, could only gain.


	17. The Bitter Truth

Phoebe opened up her eyes slowly, feeling as if much time passed while it probably was three or four minutes since she lost her consciousness. She opened up her eyes and what she saw first was Michael’s bothered face. He was hovering over her with a paper towel in his right hand and carefully brushing her chin with it. 

“It’s okay, I got you,” he murmured, focused on the task, which was wiping the blood away from her face. She reached to her nose and realised it was still bleeding and a metal taste of blood was already sensible in her mouth. “I have to admit, I’ve never seen such a heavy nosebleed. Does it happen often?”

“No. When it does, though, it’s always h-heavy,” she coughed and tried to propped on her elbows. “I’ve always had a poor blood clotting, so when I bleed, I lose a lot of blood,” she told him, feeling her temples painfully pulsating. “I don’t feel well, Michael…”

“Alright, let me help you up,” he suggested, gently pulling her up to sit. When her head hung down, the bleeding intensified, and a few drops of blood dripped on her thighs and the white leathered couch. 

“Damn,” she hissed while Michael handed her another piece of the paper towel. “Your couch… I’m sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her, and she placed the paper under her nose, pressing it hard to it. “It’s just blood. Nothing I can’t wash out later.” She curled up her lips in a weak smile. Her head rested on his right arm when he sat down beside her. They were sitting like this for a while, waiting for the bleeding to stop. 

Michael did not get scared often, but it was one of the situations, in which he could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. Perhaps this whole thing with Amanda was too much for Phoebe, and he did not blame her. He wished that he could erase this, go back and never let Phoebe out of his bed, tell her how beautiful she was and how much she meant to him, but it seemed too late for that. 

It was too late. 

His secrets, the ones he had wanted to keep away from her, were out, and he had to find a way to explain himself. He eventually had to tell her the truth, hoping he would not hate him for it.

“Feeling any better?” he asked when she moved, intending to get up. 

“Not really, but I can’t stay here, Michael. I… I don’t want to stay here, knowing your wife might come back any second with another revelation…” Phoebe replied, trying to get up from the couch on her own, but as soon as she got on her feet, the world spun around again.

“Hey, hey, easy.” He reacted immediately, catching her before she lost her balance. “You’re not going anywhere, not when you can barely stand. I won’t risk you getting hurt.”

She turned her head towards him, and their eyes locked in a gaze. It was different, though. It did not feel the same as when she was looking at him last night, with desire and affection. She was looking at him and her dark brown eyes were now empty, tired. “Then take me home yourself.”

“No,” he opposed. “I would feel much safer if you…”

“You would feel safer,” she interjected. “Not me.”

She was right and he was selfish by trying to change her mind the way he wanted it.

He was thinking about what felt good to him, not her. He was thinking about himself and it was the main reason, he kept postponing telling her the truth for so long. 

He could not do much about that now, could he?

“You’re right. I’ll go grab your things from upstairs and drive you home,” he said in a matter of fact tone, realising he was the only one to blame in this situation. It was not Phoebe’s or even Amanda’s fault. It was his, and if that was the price for his mistakes and reckless decisions, then so be it. “I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, so Michael hurried upstairs, and came back with her shoes and dress after a minute or so. She took off his shirt and put her dress back on, but did not bother herself with walking in heels, so the road to his Tailgater went barefoot. He offered her his help, but she declined it, deciding she would manage, even if it would require crawling to his car.

However, her self confidence ended the moment they reached her place, and there were plenty of stairs to overcome. Weakened and dizzied, it would take ages to reach her flat, so she was not opposing when Michael offered to carry her upstairs. It was not the first time he did that, anyway. 

Once they entered her apartment, Phoebe directed her steps straight to the bathroom to wash the rest of the blood off her face. She looked into the mirror and saw how bad she looked. Her hair was messy, make-up long gone and her chin smeared with blood didn't look well. She did not feel well, either, so it kinda matched. 

She took off her dress, and for a few minutes, she was gaping at her bruised hips. “Fuck,” she whispered, and then it hit her. In one moment, she realised how much it hurt, and it was not because of the bruises, but her heart. She did not want to believe in what Amanda told her, but it would not be the first time Michael lied to her. 

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she did not know what to think. She wanted to believe it was just a silly joke and Michael would explain it to her, but she was aware of the facts that could have been the proof that what Amanda was saying was true. 

She could not do that right now… She could not…

“Phoebe, is everything okay?” Michael asked, concerned. A second later, she walked out of the bedroom with a face as if she had just seen a ghost. “Phoebe?”

“No, nothing is okay, Michael,” she replied weakly. “I hope you'll manage to wash the blood out of your couch. If not, I can pay for the cleaning—”

“Stop it. I don’t care about fucking couch,” he fired back and followed her to the bedroom. “I’m worried about you. Do you need anything?”

“Yes. I need you to leave me alone.” The answer was as simple as that. 

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” she cut him off. “That’s what I want.”

It was not easy, but Michael obeyed. He had let himself watch Phoebe lie down on the bed and cover herself with a blanket before he left, closing the door behind his back. He locked it with a key, she used to keep under her doormat and returned to his car.

He hit the drivers wheel angrily, pouring his frustration out on it. It could not end like that. He did not even have a chance to explain himself to her, to clean the mess Amanda had made when she appeared in the mansion. But what was he going to say to Phoebe? Amanda was not lying. She was telling the truth; the truth he had been hiding from Phoebe way too long. 

It was all on him.

And he could only wish she would hear him out.

* * *

Maybe asking Michael to leave was a bit radical, but back then, it was the only thing that came to Phoebe's mind and had some sense in it. She did not want to do something stupid, said too much and above all, she needed some rest before she could even force herself to think about what had happened in the morning.

By the time she got out of her bed, it was already dark outside.

She did not want to eat because she felt no hunger. She drank some water only because she did not want to risk getting dehydrated, not because she actually felt thirst. 

She had no energy to get up, and if she could, she would definitely stay in her bed for days to come, but there was no such option.

The good thing was that she no longer felt pain, or at least, it was not physical. The shower she took after she had woken up from a few hours nap washed away the feeling of being pathetic, and there she was, standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom. She examined her body, the bruises, the scars she had on her lower belly and the one that marked her left thigh. 

If bodies could tell stories, hers was definitely telling one. The story of the girl who trusted too easily and set her hopes too high. The girl who wanted to be important to someone. The girl who failed in not becoming everything she did not want to be. 

She dried her hair and made a messy ponytail of it. Then, she put on a fresh set of clothes: black joggers and a cropped, plain, hoodie and that was also when she reminded herself of the necklace from Michael that was still hanging on her neck. For a moment, she wanted to take it off, but she did not.

There was no point in doing so because Michael was on her mind either way. 

Just when she returned to her bedroom, her phone buzzed on the shelf, and a message from him appeared on the screen. Perfect timing, as usual.

_ “How are you feeling?” _

_ “Better. Just woke up.”  _ She replied, hoping he would not bother her with his explanations that night, but as soon as the new message appeared on the screen, she gave up on her hope.

_ “Can I drop by to talk?”  _ Of course, he wanted to talk. It was always the way he wanted it to be, wasn’t it? However, this time, this conversation was inevitable, and Phoebe knew the sooner they would talk, the quicker she would get answers for the questions that were bothering her.

_ “If you have to.”  _ She felt this weird feeling in her belly, telling her she was getting nervous. Nothing had ever been as stressing as ‘we have to talk’ situations for her. 

She did not know what to expect and feared she might not get the answers she wanted to hear. What if it was all true? What if something was wrong, but she was too blinded to see it? What if she was fooling herself all this time?

She could not breathe.

She managed to sit down, and calm down a little, scribbling a message to Amy in which she explained why she was not responding to the dozens of texts she had sent to her when a doorbell rang. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve been waiting by the doors this whole time,” Phoebe said once she saw Michael at the doorstep. “You texted me…” she peeked at the screen of her phone she was still holding in her hand, “three minutes ago?”

“I was nearby, cruising down the city,” he explained briefly. “Can I come in?” 

“Actually, since you’re here I would like to smoke,” she replied, closing the doors and approaching the metal railing. “Do you still have a pack of cigarettes in your jacket?”

He reached to his left pocket then handed her the pack of cigarettes she had asked for. “The lighter is inside.”

She nodded, pulling out a cigarette along with the lighter and a second later, breathed out a small cloud of white smoke. 

“You look better.” Michael tried to find a way to start a conversation, but Phoebe quickly cut him off.

“Say what you’ve got to say and let’s get it over with.”

“Where do I start?” he puffed, leaning against the railing. 

“At the beginning.”

And so, he began talking. 

He told her how it all started, how he got into the business with his best friends, what had happened in North Yankton years ago and what led him to the point where he was. From having nothing to a big mansion in Rockford Hills, having a wife and two (already) grown-up kids and the life many people could only dream of. He did not miss any detail about what he had to do or what he had to sacrifice to get there.

He told her about Trevor and their friendship that had always been like a bumpy road. He told her about Amanda and their marriage that happened just because she was pregnant with his daughter. He told her about his kids who had never accepted who he was and the obstacles he had to face through the years.

“I’m not proud of what I was doing throughout all these years, but... I couldn’t resign from it. It kept my heart racing. It kept me alive,” Michael was saying, and from his voice, Phoebe could hear that talking about all these things was not easy. “This is… This is something I’m not proud of, but it’s also who I am. I can’t erase my past, what I did…”

“But if you could… Would you?” Phoebe asked, feeling her throat running dry. She did not know how to react to everything Michael had told her. 

It was a lot to process. 

“I don’t know, Phoebe,” he replied after a long while. “I wish I told you the truth soon, but what was I supposed to say? _I’m a former robber, generally a bad guy_? Would you like to have anything to do with me then? I… I don’t want to be seen as a _bad guy._ Whenever someone finds out about that, that’s the only thing they can see. _Bad_.”

Silence. 

Phoebe threw away another cigarette butt, feeling this familiar scratching in her throat; the one she always felt when she smoked too many cigarettes.

“This is fucked up, Michael,” she said, brushing back her hair with both of her hands. “For a moment I was thinking you were telling me a story you made up, but the way you were telling it… I don’t know what to think.” She sighed deeply. 

Michael was not responding.

“Would you… would you tell me about it if it wasn’t for Amanda? Or were you planning on lying to me till you would eventually get bored of me?”

“I… I wanted to tell you, but I… I didn’t want to lose you.” 

“So lying to someone you don’t want to lose is better than telling them the truth? Do you have any idea how I felt when she told me? Like I meant nothing and was your  _ plaything, _ indeed.”

“It’s not better… I know I screwed up, and Amanda had no right to act the way she did towards you. I’m going to talk to my lawyers and put an end to it.”

“Why? She’s your wife, Michael while I...” she paused. “Who am I for you? You don’t have to reply, because I know you don’t know the answer to that, but... Think about it. Maybe Amanda was right? Maybe I’m your distraction?”

“Don’t say so. You know it’s not true. I care about you, Phoebe.” Michael opposed. “What do you want me to say? How do you want me to call you?”

“It’s not about how I want you to call me or what I want you to say to me!” She could no longer hide the frustration that was growing up inside her. “Is this… Is everything that you said to me… Is that all? No more secrets?” He looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. “Michael?”

“There’s one more thing I haven’t told you about yet,” he said eventually, setting his eyes on her, “but I have no idea how to say it to you.” 

“Is there something much worse than figuring out the man you slept with has a wife and is a criminal?” She puffed. “Just say it. I’ll try not to faint or bleed out on you this time.” 

“Phoebe…”

“You tell me everything or we have nothing else to talk about.”

Michael had taken a deep breath and grunted before he asked: “Remember the night you got shot?”

It was a rhetorical question. How could she not?

“I… I wasn’t there by accident. I was… Trevor and I were chasing some guys who had messed with him. The shooting began and… I’m so sorry, Phoebe.”

“Wait… What you’re trying to say…” She did not quite understand what he meant, but after he hung his head, it all started making sense to her. “You didn’t…”

“I did,” he countered. “I was the one who shot you.” 

Phoebe froze.

She was not prepared to hear such a confession coming from him. She thought he could not surprise her much more, but then, he dropped another bomb. The one she was not ready for at all, but this time, she was tough. She did not shed a single tear. Not until she realised this thing she had just heard could change everything she believed in. 

“It was an accident,” Michael continued, seeing her face getting pale. “I swear I would never… I didn’t want that. When I realised what I did I…”

“Was sorry?” she finished for him, her voice weakened when she realised what that meant. “Was that the reason you left the flowers and took me out, too?”

“I was sorry, and yes, I did leave the flowers for you because I wanted to make it up to you somehow… I didn’t expect you to text me, though. When we first met in that cafe… You looked so pretty, your smile was so bright and eyes so alluring…”

“You can’t be serious,” she uttered. “I can’t believe it… I can’t believe the reason you wanted to see me was that you were trying to numb your sense of guilt! You did… I almost bled out on the street because of you and you kept acting as if nothing happened!”

“I wanted to tell you! I wanted to find the right moment and tell you all about what I did. I wanted you to know the truth about me, but I was scared. For the first time in a long time, someone was not judging me and did not look at me… Like this,” he said quietly, nodding at her. “It’s this look I was so scared of.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No,” he replied. “I’m so sorry, Phoebe.”

“I don’t know, Michael,” she wiped the tears out of her cheeks with the outer side of her right hand. “I thought I was confused earlier, but now… I think I need a break from… Whatever we are.”

“Wait… No… Please.” He gave her a pleading look. 

“Michael! Can you hear yourself?” she asked, taking a step back from the railing. “It ain’t gonna work!” She realised what she said when these words escaped her mouth. It was not something she wanted, but it was something she had to do. “I’m sorry, but I can’t,” she whispered and was about to leave when Michael grabbed her left forearm.

“Are you gonna walk away just like that?” His right hand tightened on her flesh. 

“What else did you expect? Should I run into your arms as if nothing happened? You lied to me! You’ve been lying to me since the start, and if it wasn’t for your wife you would probably keep lying to me, waiting for god knows what!” Phoebe snapped at him, feeling the tears running down her cheeks. “I feel… I feel like a goddamn fool, so I’m done playing your games.” She freed her forearm out of his grasp. “Goodbye, Michael,” she said, and that was when Michael stopped thinking clearly.

She managed to make a few steps towards the doors when he got to her, blocking her from walking away from him. She could not do that, not when he had just exposed himself to her, showing her who he truly was. 

Or maybe she could, and that was the right thing for her to do; to walk away and leave his lying ass behind. She deserved better, Michael knew that. He knew everything in theory, but in practice, he could not let her go.

“Let me pass,” she demanded, feeling her heart racing in her chest. She wanted to believe he would do her no harm, but at that moment, she was not sure of a damn thing. “Please…” she muttered, taking a few steps back till her back touched the wall of the building. He placed both of his hands on the wall and she was in the middle with no possibility of escape. “Let me go.” Her voice trembled. “I’m scared of you.”

_ Scared of you _ . 

No words had ever hurt Michael as much as these. He immediately backed off, keeping his hands up in a surrounding gesture. He would never hurt her and yet, he understood why she was scared. He understood even if it felt as if someone punched him right in the face. 

“Phoebe, are you—is everything alright?” They both turned towards the source of a sound and saw Amy standing aside, watching this whole scene. “You texted me back and left me hanging again, so I thought I would come and check on you—”

“Everything is just fine,” Phoebe responded, hoping her voice would not reveal that nothing was fine. “Michael's already leaving, right?”

“Right,” he agreed. “Goodbye, Phoebe. Amy,” he nodded at her once he passed her and a moment later, he was gone. 

“What did just happen?” Amy had a feeling her friend was not completely honest with her; the look on her face was telling a different story. 

Phoebe could not force a word to come out of her mouth. Once she was sure Michael was gone from her sight, she burst into tears. She sobbed when Amy hugged her, not daring to ask another question. 

Besides, her woman’s intuition told her what had just happened.


	18. Some Things Never Change

“ **_ Amanda! _ ** ” Michael roared, walking into his mansion. He saw his wife’s house parked on the driveway, so he was almost sure she was somewhere inside. He slammed his car keys and phone on the counter then hurried to the living room where his wife was peacefully watching a movie on the projector.

He had been cruising down the city for over an hour, trying to get his thoughts together. It did not work. He was rancorous. Phoebe’s words, no matter how painful, were true. He screwed up so bad there was no way back from it.

He felt awful. He felt as if he lost her, lost the woman he started to feel something for just because he was reckless and lied to her, even though he knew it was wrong. He could have learned something from the past and be straightforward with her from the very start.

“Back this early?” Amanda reluctantly turned her head to look at her husband. “I mean, I knew it would be bad, because how else could it be, but was it this bad?”

“I’m gonna have divorce papers delivered to you in the morning,” Michael hissed, moving in front of her, “and you’re gonna sign them because I’m done playing your games, Amanda.”

“You’re so angry, I assume there was no makeup sex,” she taunted, letting out a deep chuckle. “So, this poor girl eventually realised who she’s dealing with.”

“Her name is Phoebe, and you don’t know a damn thing about her.”

“You’re right, but I know everything about you, this look on your face included. I guess things didn’t go as planned, and she didn’t want to listen to your apologies?”

“Stop messing with me,” Michael stated firmly. “You’ve done enough, don’t you think?”

“But you’re so fun to mess with.” Amanda put away the glass of wine she was holding in her right hand and folded her arms. “I ain’t gonna sign a damn thing, Michael. Why would I give you divorce? We can still work on our marriage as we always do.”

“No, we can’t work on it! Are you really that blind, Amanda? Our marriage’s been done for years!” The anger took control over him, so he stopped thinking of what was the right thing to say and laid his cards on the table. “I don’t love you anymore.”

“Because you’re in love with her?” she puffed, too proud to show him his words hurt. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

It was a question Michael did not expect to hear, not from his wife, at least.

“It's none of your business,” he muttered eventually, hoping she would not dig.

“I’ve been with you for years! I gave you children and stayed with you, knowing how fucked up you are, and now you dare to tell me you don’t love me anymore just because you’re going through some midlife crisis and simply can’t keep it in your pants?” she snapped at him, getting up on her feet.

“I can’t keep it in my pants, huh? What about you, flawless wife? What about Fabien or other guys who kept you entertained in, as you say, our bedroom?” he fired back, angrier than intended. “Let’s face it, Amanda. If you ever did love me, you stopped doing it a long time ago.”

“So you did.”

“What are we still doing together in that case?” he asked, knowing he would get no answer, especially when she looked down. “Yeah, I don’t know that, either. I was trying my hardest, you were never satisfied, so I think it’s high time we let go of something that doesn’t have sense anymore.”

“You were never trying your hardest,” Amanda countered, raising up her sight after a while. “You were always thinking about you. You, you, you, and what you want. It’s no different this time because you never learn!”

“You’ve never seen good in me, I know. The worst husband ever, eh? Let’s forget about the life I gave you! If it wasn’t for me, you would have nothing, Amanda. No mansion, no money, no tennis court and no toyboys to pick from—” Michael said, and that was when his left cheek met the palm of Amanda’s hand. 

“You have no right to talk to me this way!” she yelled, losing the control over her voice.

“And you have no right to treat me or someone important to me the way you do!” He took a step back, knowing he might not be able to hold himself back if he remained too close. “This ends now, Amanda. I’m done, and I don’t want to see you in this house anymore.”

“You can’t do that—”

“Don’t worry,” Michael continued, “I made sure you’re gonna have enough money to buy yourself a house where you won’t have to look at my face anymore or bear with me. Trace and Jim can pick where they want to live.”

“You’re gonna regret this choice. You…” Her voice cracked and her eyes filled up with tears. “You’re gonna end up alone!”

_ I regret many choices _ , Michael thought but did not dare to say out loud. It did not matter, anyway. He reached the point where ending up alone was much better than being with a woman who despised him. 

He walked to the kitchen to pour himself a drink, ignoring Amanda shouting at him in the background. He couldn't care less. No matter what she would do could not hurt him as much as the fact Phoebe was scared of him. 

_ Let me go. I’m scared of you. _

He could not get these words out of his head.

* * *

Michael was not the only one hurting, because it was not easy for Phoebe, either. 

She felt betrayed, angry and disappointed about this whole situation. She followed her mind but was not sure whether it was the right choice, because she could not believe it all ended this way. 

It would have been much easier if she was not in love with Michael. If she wasn’t, she could think rationally and move on. But she could not, even if it seemed to be the only thing to do.

It would be foolish of her to make the same mistake twice. She forgave him when he forgot to mention he was married, but somehow, it was much harder to forgive him not telling her who he really was. Was she so not trustworthy? She wished she knew. 

She thought they were close, but maybe not that close. She wanted to believe it was more to him than just a fling, that his actions were real and even though he lied to her, she mattered. 

The more she thought, the less she knew. 

Maybe this break from him would do her good. She would have more time to figure out what she felt, what she wanted and whether she would ever be able to trust him again. However, she missed him and for most of the time, all she could think of was whether to call him or not. 

Michael kept sending her texts saying he was sorry, but she could not force herself to respond to any of them. It felt as if two people were fighting inside her - one of them wanted Michael and the other knew it was wiser to stay away.

The worst was she had no clue who to listen to. 

She did not even know how to explain to Amy what happened, so she briefly told her that Michael and she got into the fight, and they both needed some space. Amy did not comment on that, but Phoebe could feel she was in a way glad it happened. She never liked him, knowing he would hurt Phoebe sooner or later, and what was the worst, she was right. 

The thing Amy did not know, though, was how much Michael meant to her friend. She had no idea how important this relationship with him was to Phoebe, especially after everything that had happened in her life. 

But again, it only proved she had her hopes set too high. 

With a heavy heart, she was trying to move on. Every day felt the same and the void was not getting smaller. The bruises on her body disappeared, but they did not take the pain away. 

If it was so easy to fall in love, why wasn’t it so easy to fall back out of it? 

Phoebe wished she knew that, too.

* * *

The days were passing, and Daniel did not waste any time.

After he had called Daniel a few days later, offering him a job, there was no turning back. He had to prove Trevor he was worth his time, worth his attention and money he was paying to him. He had to prove that he eventually manned up, which seemed to be a high time for a thirty-five-year-old man. How could he expect to be treated seriously if he did not act as if he was serious about things he did?

When he was running errands for Trevor, he knew there was no place for mistakes or moments of weakness. There was no place for a failure. 

Besides, it gave him an illusion of control over his life. Even if he was only a minion for Trevor, this whole thing felt like coming back to the past, to the time when Daniel thought he had control over his life for real. When everything was relatively good, a long time before he lost it all.

He groaned, lifting two 22 pounds weights, and the veins showed on his toned forearms and the muscles tense on his bare torso. It had been a while since the last time he exercised, so he had a long way to go before he would get back in the shape he wanted, but he was serious about getting back on track. This whole plan he had, including him getting back the real control, was keeping him motivated and determined. For the first time in years, he felt as if things were about to improve for him.

He stopped thinking about his sister, or at least, he stopped thinking obsessively about her and let her go. It did not mean that he stopped caring, though. He simply realised that he would not move forward with his life if he would not let her live hers without him included.

He had to focus on the task. He had to focus on getting back other things he had lost throughout the years. He had to focus and…

“Back to the roots or was there something wrong with your previous place?” The doors of the garage opened and Trevor walked in.

“You should learn to knock,” Daniel said, still focused on the exercise. “The rent was pretty high since no one lives here, I figured I can move back,” he added. “As far as I know, Phoebe doesn’t want this place, so there’s no problem.”

“What if one day she will want it?” 

“Well, I think she’s more into mansions now,” Daniel puffed. “However, if she changes her mind, I’ll be glad to share the house with her.” 

“Where’s the old Dan? You surely don’t sound or act like him,” Trevor hinted. “Maybe that’s for the better. Keep not being you and working like that,” he reached to the pocket of his worn-out, light jeans and pulled out a few one-hundred dollars bills, “and I think we’ll both gain on it.”

“That’s the plan, Trevor,” Dan breathed out. “To gain a lot and not lose a bit.”

Trevor snickered as he placed the bills on the wooden countertop by the wall. He looked around, examining the small garage Daniel had turned to be his private gym, then walked to the bench to sit down as he asked: “So, what really happened between you and Phoebe?” 

“You can’t let go of it, can you?” The younger man rolled up his eyes. “You know well what happened.”

“I didn’t mean the obvious.”

Daniel sighed, putting the weights on the ground. “I ain’t talking about it. I don’t know why you keep bringing it up, either.”

“So, wouldn’t you like what’s going on with your sister?” Trevor frowned. “You’re cutting yourself off… Just like that?” 

“I guess?” Daniel shrugged after he had leaned against the counter where Trevor put the money a few moments ago. “I’m trying to move on. My sister ain’t that little anymore and apparently, she doesn’t need me around.”

“Yeah, I’m quite sure Michael’s been keeping her  _ busy-busy _ these days,” Trevor joked and in return, he received a glare. “What? Come on! You’re big enough to know they’re not staring into each other’s eyes all the time.”

“Don’t even start,” Daniel warned him. “I can’t stand this guy. My sister deserves better than some rich, but grumpy and sophisticated prick.”

“That’s what you think of him?”

“What else can I think of him? I saw him twice and he didn’t make the best impression on me,” Daniel looked to the side and seemed to get lost in thought. “It doesn’t matter now, right? What I think doesn’t matter, because my words and opinions stopped mattered to Phoebe a long time ago.”

“I think you should get to know him,” Trevor said after a period of silence. “Maybe working with him at some point will be necessary, so you could work on your attitude towards him.”

“What?” Daniel’s eyes returned to Trevor. “What do you mean by working with him?”

“Didn’t I mention about my pal Michael to you?” A scornful laugh escaped Trevor’s mouth. “Oh right, he and I aren’t always on the same side, but fuck me, this guy is a pro. If we want to make some good money, we might need him at some point.”

“So…” Daniel was trying to put it all together. “Is he a version of you, but in an expensive suit?” 

“No one’s like me, sugar,” Trevor fired back. “We’ve been friends and working together for years, so I trust him even if he’s a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“Wait—No fucking way. Does Phoebe know what he really does? My sister… Oh, hell no. I knew he couldn’t be trusted—” 

“He’s just like me and you, don’t panic. He’s nothing Phoebe has not dealt with before,” Trevor pondered. “What is different is that Michael could give her the life she never had. All she will have to do will be lying by the pool in a very skimpy bikini and smile whenever Michael and his ego come right in.” 

“Can you hear yourself, Trevor? Phoebe’s not someone’s pretty doll. She’s clever, self-efficient and she needs no man…”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” A chuckle escaped Trevor’s mouth. “I’m sure she doesn’t mind some sweet loving from a guy who spoils her like a child.”

“Fuck you, Trevor,” Daniel hissed. “Stop. It.”

“Why? I’m not asking you to love this guy, but to accept the fact you might be working with him sooner than later,” Trevor said. “The job I’m planning will require the best people. Are you one of them, Dan?”

“I’ve done merely a few works for you. Besides, we’re talking about business. I don’t need to know what he does with my sister, for god's sake—”

“If I want you both on the same side, I have to make sure you won’t jump to each other’s throats the second you meet. You don’t need to know what he does with her, but accepting the fact he does it with her can be helpful.”

“Since when you’re a specialist on these matters?” 

“I know my job, and I know that when people work together, the worst thing that can happen is one of them holding grudge against another,” Trevor got up from the bench. “I don’t want the job to be ruined because you two can’t get along.”

“As long as you don’t mention Phoebe, I’ll be fine,” Daniel sent him a fake smile. “Now if you excuse me--”

“God, you’re so tense, Dan! How long’s it been since you had a girl just for yourself, huh? Lucky for you, I have a few girls to pick from at Vanilla.” 

“Trevor--” Daniel wanted to oppose, but he knew there was no point. If there was a plan in Trevor’s head, nothing could change it.

“Come on,  _ swollen balls _ ,” he mocked, directing his steps outside. “Your muscles are already pumped enough for the day.”

* * *

It was not the first time Daniel visited Vanilla, but he had never been treated this way before. He used to watch the girls from afar, not getting even close to them for a second, and now, he was in the private lounge with a drink in his hand and a pretty girl dancing just for him. 

Trevor let him do, as he said,  _ whatever the fuck he wanted _ , but he was far from using this offer. He meant no harm to this girl, who was dancing for him as a part of her job. She was not even that pretty. Not in Daniel’s taste, at least. 

“Are you gonna say something to me, darling?” The woman asked softly. “Any specific requests?”

“Keep dancing.” 

“That’s not what the boss wanted me to do,” she countered. “It wasn’t the only thing, at least.” 

“Sapphire, when you’re with me, I decide. Not Trevor.” Daniel pulled her on his lap, and when she leaned down to kiss him, he stopped her, placing his pointing finger on her lips. “I don’t know what he told you, but I want you to keep dancing for me.”

“As you wish, Dan,” she got off him and filled his request, continuing dancing the way she did before. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

“How much does Trevor pay you for doing whatever he wants you to do?” Daniel asked after some time, still stroking Sapphire’s thigh. 

“He doesn’t,” she replied shortly. “Our clients do, so it’s important they’re satisfied.”

“You could have more if you were… You know, doing it on your own.”

“Who do you think men want to pay more? A stripper in the club or a prostitute on the street?” These questions did not require answers. “See, men like to come here and feel exclusive, even for a while. They usually can’t touch us, which makes them desire us even more, so they pay. In this world, I doubt there’s anything money can’t do.”

“I could name a few things…”

“It’s because you don’t have enough of them,” she returned, turning back to him. “It’s all about perspective.”

“So you say,” Daniel shrugged and reached for the glass. He took a sip of the drink, holding it in his mouth for a moment before he swallowed. “I’m not paying you, though. Why are you doing this then?”

“You’re quite handsome,” she peeked at him over her left shoulder, “and also, it’s my job and I want to keep it. Trevor asked me, so I do what he says.”

“That’s what we have in common,” he muttered. Sapphire sat in his lap again, rubbing her ass against the growing bulge in his jeans. 

“You sure you don’t want to do anything about it?” she asked suggestively. “I can take care of it… If you want to.”

“I’m good,” Daniel replied, brushing the strand of her brown hair off her face. “Maybe next time, okay?” 

“Okay,” Sapphire nodded then left a peck on his rough from stubble cheek. “I’ll stick around,” she added and got off him. Once she adjusted her purple lingerie, she left, waving him goodbye.

Daniel had no intention of leaving the private lounge quickly. As soon as he and Trevor arrived at the strip club, he discovered the real aim of getting there in the first place. 

Michael.

Trevor joined his friend right after Dan had disappeared behind the curtain, which separated the lounge from pry eyes of bodyguards and onlookers. Not that Daniel needed to know what these two were talking about, but he was curious. However, what he did not want was to confront Michael, so he stuck with avoiding him as much as he could.

After a few minutes, he left the lounge, but instead of going to the table where Trevor and Michael were chatting, he went to the bar. If he had to face his sister’s boyfriend, he could at least treat himself with another drink before he could do so. 

He hoped Trevor would not notice him flitting right under his nose, and that was when he bumped into another girl, spilling what was left on his drink on her. 

“I’m so sorry,” he hurried up with an apology.

“You’re lucky I don’t have many clothes on,” the girl giggled, reaching for a napkin from the countertop. “Don’t worry, okay? It happens. You’re not the first and probably not the last guy who spilt his drink on me.”

Daniel did not know what to say as he did not expect such a calm reaction from her. He eyed her, thinking about how he had not noticed her before. She was really pretty; she had long blonde hair, hypnotizing eyes and a smile so pretty, he could watch her giggle all night long.

“I’m Amy,” she introduced herself, holding out her hand to him. 

“Daniel,” he shook her hand gently. 

“You’re the guy Trevor brought with him tonight, right?”

“Right,” Dan confirmed as they both approached the bar. “So, since I spilt my drink on you, what would you say if I bought you one?”

“I’d love to, but I’m working,” Amy responded, leaning against the countertop, “and if Trevor sees that, he won’t be pleased.” She reached for another napkin and rubbed it against her pink lingerie. “You got me good with your drink,” she joked and they both laughed awkwardly. 

“What about after your shift is done?” 

“Are you seriously considering waiting for me almost the whole night?”

“I’m not planning on leaving any sooner, so… Yeah, I’m considering this option,” Dan responded, and Amy’s cheeks reddened a little. “Of course, only if you want to see me. Don’t feel bad about saying no.” 

“Why would I say no?” she countered. “Not every day I have this opportunity to go for a drink with such a gentleman.” Her words definitely boosted Dan’s ego, and he could not hide a small smirk that appeared on his face. “I better get going now, because I don’t want to get in trouble…” 

“From what I’ve seen Trevor’s busy chatting with his friend,” Daniel grabbed her hand, stopping her from leaving. “I guess five extra minutes with me wouldn’t hurt.”

Amy sent him a smile, then looked around, searching for her boss in the room. She could not find him for a while, but when she did, she could not believe who he was chatting with.  _ Goddamn you, Michael _ , she thought to herself. Did he really move on so quickly?

“You alright?” Daniel asked, seeing her staring ahead. “Amy?”

“I can’t believe this guy Trevor’s talking to has the nerve to show up here.” She turned back towards him. “He left my friend and now, he’s acting as if nothing happened and… He knows I work here, right? If he had some decency in himself, he shouldn’t come here at all. Oh, men…”

Daniel was confused at her, but then it hit him. It was not that hard to connect what Amy was saying to what he knew, and when he realised what that meant, he had to be sure he did not overthink it. 

“What’s your friend’s name?” he asked, secretly hoping she would say any other name instead of his sister.

“Phoebe,” she responded, and he did not even know how to react to that. “Why are you asking me that?”

Daniel did not reply. His heart began racing, he clenched his fists and let the anger fill his body as he glared in Michael’s direction, holding himself back for a brief moment before he lost it. He was wrestling with his thoughts, wondering whether he should do anything, but then, he realised he could not let it go. 

Not when it was about his sister.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he told Amy, whose face turned pale when she saw what Daniel was about to do, but she did not stop him. There was no chance she would stop him, anyway, because a few seconds later, Daniel reached the table at which Michael was sitting with Trevor, and skipping formalities, he punched Michael right in the face.

From this point, everything happened quickly.

Michael was caught off guard, so it was hard for him to react as quickly as Trevor did when he stepped between his friend and Daniel, preventing the younger man from punching Michael again. 

“Hey, hey, easy!” Trevor pushed Daniel away. “No fighting inside, understood?”

“Fuck!” Michael cursed, feeling the pulsating pain spreading under his left eye, and the second he felt better, he wanted to fight Dan back. He got on his feet and wanted to reach Daniel, but Trevor’s hand pushed him down on the chair. 

“You too,  _ sugar tits, _ ” he said and turned back to Daniel. “What the fuck was that Dan? This is what you understand by  _ cooperation _ ?”

“Did you know he used and left Phoebe?” Daniel was trying his best to hold back the rage that filled up his body. “Did you know, Trevor?!”

“I didn’t use anyone,” Michael puffed, placing a glass under his left eye. “I don’t know who told you that, but I didn’t use Phoebe. Besides, weren’t you the one to tell me not to judge knowing just one side of the story?”

“It doesn’t matter who told me, and I know just enough to be sure you’re the bastard I always thought you were!” 

“That makes two of us,” Michael fired back. “Big brother Daniel, eh? Now you’re so protective, but where were you when your sister needed her brother? Oh, right, probably doing some stupid shit--”

“I swear, one more word and I’m gonna punch you again,” Daniel hissed, and Michael did not hold back from daring him. 

“Just try,” he said, and Dan was ready to go through Trevor just to prove he was not kidding, but Trevor did not let that happen.

“This ends  **_ now _ ** !” Trevor pushed Dan back and turned to Michael. “Not fair, Mike, not fair,” he told him. “We can’t work in this atmosphere. You scare the shit out of my girls, so if you have a problem,  **_ SOLVE IT OUTSIDE _ ** !”

Both of the men kept glaring at each other, but none dared to say a word. 

Neither did Amy, who kept watching this whole scene from afar. She realised what she had done seconds after he asked about her friend’s name. It was him. The unfamous Daniel Harris, she only knew from the stories Phoebe told her.

She should have kept her mouth shut, but on the other hand, she did not know… She had never seen Daniel in person before. How could she know…

It did not matter. 

Accidentally or not, she messed up.


	19. For A Change

Amy knew she had to fix it.

She quickly grabbed her long jean jacket from the backstage and hurried outside, hoping she would manage to find Daniel somewhere near. She did not have to look far or long as he was standing leaned against Trevor’s truck with his eyes set on his boots. 

The blood was boiling in his veins. He was so pissed, he could not think straight and let his instincts take control over his actions. He could not accept the thought anyone could hurt her sister. He could not accept the fact he was about to work with someone who actually hurt his sister.

He should not have agreed to come with Trevor in the first place, but it was not like he had a choice, anyway.

“Daniel, I’m so sorry,” Amy said when he raised up his sight and saw her standing by him. “I… I guess I should’ve kept my mouth shut… I should’ve figured it out. You and Phoebe are so damn similar,” she started explaining herself, but Daniel did not need any explanation from her. He was not even mad at her, knowing Amy did not do it on purpose. She did not know. She was simply looking after her friend, and he was glad Phoebe had someone like Amy in her life.

“It’s not your fault,” Dan replied, brushing back his short, dark brown hair. “I think… I think I was unconsciously looking for any reason to punch this douche in the face because I’ve wanted to do it for some time now.” That was the truth. The moment Daniel realised the real aim of this whole farce, he knew it would not end well, and what Amy said was a perfect reason to pour his frustration out on Michael.

“If I kept quiet, you wouldn’t have one,” she continued. “I’m so--”

“As I said, it’s not your fault,” he interjected then smiled gently at her. “It’s obvious you care about Phoebe, and I appreciate that a lot. I mean, I don’t know what she told you about me, but…” 

“She wasn’t saying much, to be honest,” Amy interjected, moving to the side and just like Dan, she leaned against Trevor’s truck. “She briefly told me about you and about the fact she’s not in touch with you anymore. The same thing she told me about... your mother. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It’s okay… I’m okay.”

“Oh, are you?” she questioned. “You don’t look as if you were. I mean, you look just fine, but… I can feel something bigger is bothering you.”

“I just punched my sister’s ex-boyfriend in the face, Amy. Isn’t that a good reason to be bothered?” Dan asked, but Amy tilted her head to the side and looked at him the way he knew she did not believe him at all. “Stop giving me that look, okay?” He sighed. “The thing is… I made some poor choices and now… I want to fix things, but I have no clue how. I… I’m afraid some things can’t be fixed, too.”

“Okay, so first of all, who hasn’t made some poor choices in life? It’s natural to make mistakes. I made dozens of them. Some of them were more serious than the others, but either way, I moved on.”

“I’m pretty sure your mistakes aren’t as bad as mine,” Daniel pointed. 

“It's not a competition,” she returned. “If it was, we would spend the whole night coming up with bigger mistakes we’ve made in our lives.” She stepped in front of him, taking a careful look at his now concerned face. “It’s about your sister, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I… I mean… I understand why she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, but… She’s my sister, and no matter what happened I still care about her.”

“Just so you know, Phoebe never told me exactly what had happened between you, so I’m gonna know as much as you will tell me.”

“I ain’t gonna tell you much. I don’t want to ruin this night even more,” he said, rolling up the sleeves of his black sweatshirt. “I still owe you a drink, don’t I?”

“We can get it any other day. I don’t want to keep you waiting…”

“I meant it when I said I ain’t going anywhere. I got here with Trevor and I guess, considering what happened, there will be no buses to Sandy Shores till the early morning.”

“Hmm, okay,” she nodded and for a moment, she seemed to get lost in thought. “Since you brought up this drink… How about we go and have one at my place? As your sister’s friend, I feel responsible for you having a place to stay the night. There’s a couch, so you could get some sleep, too. Besides, it seems to be a better place to talk than here.” She did not know why exactly she offered him a place to stay, but it seemed like the right thing to do. Amy wanted to believe Phoebe would do the same thing if she was put in her place. There was also something about Daniel, something she could not explain, that made her want to help him in a need.

“You had me at  _ your  _ place,” Daniel replied and a smirk appeared on his face. 

“Good. I’m gonna go grab my stuff from the backstage and join you in a moment.”

“Wait, Amy,” he said out of sudden, “won’t Trevor be mad at you for leaving?”

“I’m pretty sure he couldn’t care less,” she shrugged. “You want to go with me and make sure he’s fine with that?” 

“I don’t want to face Trevor right now.” 

“I doubt whether it’s about Trevor.” 

“Whatever,” Daniel shook his head and cut off the conversation. Amy walked away, disappearing inside the building and leaving him alone for a few minutes. When she returned, dressed up in grey joggers and a tight, white shirt, she did not look like a girl who had been standing by him a moment ago at all. “You ready?”

“Ready,” she replied. “Let’s go.”

They ordered a taxi, so reaching Amy’s place did not take long. It was late night when she opened the doors of her apartment and with a swift hand’s gesture invited Dan in. When she switched on the lights, he realised her place was rather small. The kitchen was connected with the living room, giving the whole room a little bit more space than it would be if these two rooms were apart, but still, the space was limited.

Amy placed her bag on the floor by the doors as she closed them quietly, then turned to Daniel, who was apparently waiting for her to say something. 

“So, what would you like to drink?” 

“Anything you have,” he replied. “A beer would be perfect, but I’ll have anything else, too.”

“I should have two in the fridge.” Amy marched to the kitchen, pulled two bottles out of the fridge, then placed them on the countertop. She opened them and handed one to Daniel. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers,” the man returned and took a sip of his beer. “What a night,” he stated after a while. “Who would’ve thought it would end up like this?”

“Like this? What do you mean by that?” Amy asked, moving to the green couch that was placed in the centre of the living room, a few meters from the counter. “Want to sit down?” She sat down, and Daniel followed.

“I mean by being here with you. I’m surprised you still want to talk to me after what you saw. Any other woman would probably never want to see me again. Oh, and I was supposed to buy you a drink,” he pointed at the beer, and she smiled gently.

“Well, I think you’ve had enough for the night,” she told him. “Oh, and you can take me out any other day if you want.”

“I’d like that. I promise I’ll behave and won’t punch anyone beforehand,” he joked and she chuckled in response. “So, do you often invite other guys for a drink at your place?” 

“No, I usually don’t invite anyone here, but since I know you’re Phoebe’s brother… I could make an exception,” she winked at him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“I was surprised to see you with someone like Trevor… I mean… You look so kind and seem… So different from him.” Amy looked at Daniel, at his tired, bloodshot eyes and a weak smile that remained on his face. “So… What are you doing with him?”

“That’s a very good question I can’t answer, because I don’t really know,” he responded then took another sip from the bottle. “Trevor and I… We were friends back in the days.”

“Friends? Oh, I didn’t see that coming.”

“Now he’s kinda helping me to get back on my feet,” Daniel added and Amy’s eyes widened in surprise, “but I guess it ain’t gonna work for long. You know, conflict of interests. He wants me to cooperate with Michael, so I could cooperate with them both at the same time, and I don’t want to cooperate with a man who hurts my sister in any way.” 

“Protective of your sister, aren’t you?” 

“Way too protective,” he admitted. “I couldn’t protect her from Michael, though. Damn, I couldn’t even protect her from myself.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Daniel sighed, gathering his thoughts and thinking whether he even wanted to start talking about such delicate matters that night. “One day... Phoebe and I had a fight and I got carried away. I wasn’t in the best place in my life and… I hurt her. It was out of my control, but I did hurt my sister. She hates me for it and she has every right for it, even though I wish… I wish she didn’t.”

“Someone once told me we hurt people we love the most because we care about them,” Amy said after a period of silence. “You… I don’t know you well, but you seem to care a lot about your sister, even if you messed up some things.”

“I do care a lot,” Dan agreed, looking down to escape Amy’s sight. “After our father passed I knew I was the one to take care of Phoebe and mom, but I failed. I know… I wish I could make things right with Phoebe. It’s too late to make things right with my mom, isn’t it?” he asked, rhetorically. “I sometimes wonder whether it’s not too late to make things right with my sister, too, and to prove to her that I’ve always cared.”

“It’s never too late to try, right?” she questioned, and a reassuring smile appeared on her face. “She might not forgive you at first, but if you try hard enough… There’s still a chance for you to fix everything.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes, Dan. I really think so,” she responded, and then, in order to change the subject or out of pure curiosity, she asked him something he did not expect to be asked about. “What was wrong with Sapphire?”

“Nothing,” he replied instinctively the first thing that came to his mind, “but she wasn’t my type. I mean—”

“I get what you mean,” Amy smiled then downed the bottle with a few sips. “I asked because I’d seen you with her earlier, and I was surprised she left so quickly.”

“I kinda brushed her off. She was nice and all, but… I wasn’t interested.” 

“Are you interested now?” She lost control for a second, and a suggestive question slipped out of her mouth. 

Dan smirked, Amy blushed, and when their eyes met she realised she should not have asked. “I’m very interested now,” he responded, carefully moving closer to her, but that was when a red light appeared in Amy’s head. 

She could not do that. 

She could not do that, not when she was fully aware it was Phoebe’s brother who was sitting by her on the couch. It was not the reason she had invited him to her apartment, too. She moved away as if she was burned, and a blush spread on her face like a wildfire. Her heart beat faster, but she knew it would be a mistake. 

“I’m gonna get you a blanket and a comfortable pillow,” she mumbled, putting away the empty bottle and getting up from the couch in a hurry. Seconds later, she disappeared into her bedroom, that was on the right from the couch, and Daniel could not be more confused. 

Did he do something wrong?

He did not want to think about it. On the contrary, he wanted to think she felt the same way he did the moment their eyes met for a while. It gave him hope someone was still capable of looking at him this way; with understanding and a feeling other than despise. It was too early to say anything else except that he liked her; he liked her the moment he spilt his drink on her and she turned it into a joke. 

Of course, if he had a chance he would kiss her. He would go even further, he would kiss her and…

“There you go.” Her voice brought him back again and she handed him the soft, grey blanket and a matching pillow. “If there’s anything you need, just ask.”

“I assume you staying on this couch with me is not an option?” he asked, not hoping for much. 

“Don’t push your luck even more tonight.” 

“I had to try,” he smiled, putting away the bottle and kicking his brown boots off his feet. He covered himself with a blanket then placed a pillow under his head as he obediently lied down, watching Amy watching him with a small smile on her face. “How can a wonderful girl like you work in such a place as Vanilla?”

“Well, you flatter me,” she responded, “but I guess this is life. Some things went wrong and I ended up dancing for strangers.”

“Do you like what you’re doing?”

“You mean dancing for strangers?”

“Yes.”

“Mostly I do,” she said after consideration. “Phoebe’s always been saying I deserve better, but I… I don’t know if I do.”

“She’s right. You deserve a lot more than that,” Daniel told her. 

“Then I guess we both deserve better,” she countered. “You definitely deserve more than being Trevor’s errand boy.”

“I’m not his errand boy,” he fired back.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” Amy winked at him, then directed her steps towards the door of her bedroom. “Sleep well.” 

“You too,” Dan replied and watched her walk inside the other room. He got up to turn off the lights and not long after he returned to the couch, he fell asleep. He was not dreaming much, and for the first time in a long time, he rested. 

A bit.

But still, it was a nice change.

* * *

“Damn, he got me good,” Michael hissed when Trevor handed him a bottle of brandy from behind the bar. The glass was cold and it soothed the pain from the bruise under his left eye. “I have to say I didn’t see that coming.” 

“To be honest, I didn’t expect that, either,” Trevor told his friend, and shook his head slowly, “but if you left her, I understand why Daniel could get pissed.”

“I didn’t leave her. She left me, considering we’ve ever been together in the first place.”

“Why?” Trevor questioned. “What did you do to her?”

“Wait, are you siding with Daniel now?”

“I just want to know both versions of the same story,” the other man responded, leaning on the counter. “Speak up, sugar tits.” 

Michael sighed, and once he put down the brandy, he began talking: “I told her the truth… I mean, Amanda told her, so I had no other choice than telling her everything. She didn’t take it well, to say at least.” 

“Wait, Amanda told her?” Trevor scoffed. “Why? Caught you two in bed?”

“No. She came by to give me our divorce papers and saw Phoebe downstairs, in my shirt, so I guess she figured out the rest. She got mad, torn up divorce papers in front of us and pretty much hinted all these good things didn’t come from being a  _ good _ man.” 

Trevor did not know what to say or he did, but telling  _ I told you so _ did not seem like something a friend would say to cheer up another. “What did Phoebe say? I guess you already talked to her?”

“I did and she… She didn’t even know what to say. No one is prepared to hear something like this, right?” Michael chewed on his bottom lip and his sight wandered down. “The worst thing is that she told me she’s scared of me not because I accidentally shot her, but because she doesn’t know who I am anymore.” 

“And you let her go just like that? So typical of you, Michael! When things get hard, you let go,” Trevor said, shaking his head in disapproval.

“What else could I do? Force her to stay with me?” Michael puffed. “She wanted space and I gave her what she asked for.”

“God, you’re so convenient! Space? For real? You should’ve shown her how much she means to you if she means anything at all instead of letting her go.”

“I didn’t let her go, but I… I have to finish this divorce thing for good. No more playing Amanda’s games. No more living in the same house with her, especially when we both know it’s going nowhere,” Michael cleared his throat. “I’m currently sleeping in a hotel. Amanda is looking for a new place for herself, lawyers are taking care of all the formalities...” 

“So, it’s for real? The divorce?”

“Like hell, it is.”

“And Phoebe?”

“Do you think I would be ending my marriage if I didn’t think of her seriously?”

Trevor had looked at his friend with disbelief before he placed two glasses from the bar on the counter and poured some brandy into them. “I don’t know what I think,” he moved the glass towards Michael, “but now I get why Daniel punched you. Your intentions, even if pure, are so damn hard to believe in.”

“Now you’re doubting me, too? Great,” Michael scoffed then sipped on his drink. “Fuck, maybe you’re right. Maybe I should’ve skipped taunting Daniel, but damn, he got on my nerves…” 

“You should know when to swallow your pride and apologise, Mikey. Sometimes it’s much easier that way.” Trevor rarely said something that clever, Michael did not know how to respond. “Especially since you’re fighting with a man who’s her brother. Hated or not, he will always be her brother, but what do I know?”

Michael could not deny it, even if these words came out from the man who never swallowed his pride or apologised. However, it would be much easier if he simply admitted he had done a wrong thing and stopped acting as if he knew what he was doing.

He did not know. 

He was acting impulsively when he tried to make Amanda move out of the mansion, and in the end, he moved out himself. He was not thinking much when he wanted to stop Phoebe and crossed her safety boundaries, which made her feel even more scared of him. 

He did not know how to act or how to make things right, but if there was one thing he knew was that fighting with Phoebe’s brother would not make anything better. It could only make things worse because Trevor seemed to be right. Again. 

“What do you suggest? Should I apologise to him after he punched me in the face?” Michael asked, tapping on the glass with his fingertips. 

“No. I suggest you make peace with him. You don’t have to like him, but you won’t ever get her back if he and you will be jumping to each other’s throats every  _ damn _ time,” Trevor replied and then, he laughed. “Not mentioning my plan for us to work together…”

“It ain’t gonna work, T.”

“I know! You two made it crystal clear,” Trevor told him, pouring himself another drink. “I hope you will eventually listen to me, though, because I’m tired of you whining all the time.”

“I’m not whining,” Michael replied.

“Yes, you are,” Trevor countered, and after looking at his friend for a few moments, he added: “You know what your problem is? You’re never honest with the way you feel. Never. You keep lying to yourself and to everyone around, because you’re scared… Of what exactly? It’s not bad to feel. It’s bad to keep lying about it,” he paused for a few seconds. “Does loving her scare you this much?”

Michael did not reply, but he did know the answer to that.

* * *

“It’s Murphy Carter, please leave a message.”

_ Beep. _

“Hey, Murphy,” Phoebe said weekly, turning onto her back. It was early morning, and after another sleepless night, she was exhausted. The bright light was falling through the shutters, enlightening her cosy bedroom. “I know you weren’t expecting me to call you this early or even at all, but I want to keep my promise… I know it’s early, so you’re probably working or sleeping and have your phone muted. It’s okay. I just need to talk to someone...” 

She had bitten her bottom lip and let herself think for a few seconds before she continued:

“I hope you’re doing well. I’m not. Not really, actually. I’ve had a rough couple of weeks, and I guess... I’m tired. Are you planning on visiting LS anytime soon? You probably aren’t. It’s also okay because I think I need to get out of this city, too. Just for a while, because I’m still looking out for a new job. I know you would tell me I should go back and get my degree, work as a doctor, but I can’t. I feel this chapter of my life ended when I lost my dad. I couldn’t save someone I loved the most, so what’s the point in all that?” She stopped for a moment, realising she sounded a bit too dramatic. “Anyway, I’m also calling you, because I don’t want you to worry about me. I might be going through a rough time, but I’ll be okay. I think,” she coughed and sneezed unexpectedly, and a shiver came through her whole body, “if I get over this awful cold first.” 

She sat up and looked at the pink suitcase that was placed by the door of the bedroom. “Let me know when you’ll be in Los Santos or call me when you have some spare time. I’m going to be away for a few days, but I’ll always find some time to talk to you, even if I had problems with that when I was younger. Take care, Murphy and I hope we’ll talk or see each other soon.”

_ Beep. Beep. Beep. _

Phoebe locked her phone and put it inside the pocket of her grey hoodie. She brushed back her hair, wondering what exactly she was doing. 

Tired of being in the same place all the time, she realised she needed a change. Being in a place that constantly reminded her of Michael was not doing her good; wherever she looked, she was thinking about him, thinking what he was doing and whether he was thinking of her as much as she was about him.

Tony, the photographer who had been so nice to her, called her the other day, saying there was another photo session coming and they were looking for a model, but she refused. 

“That’s a shame, Phoebe, but I get it. Just let me know if you change your mind,” he told her and she thanked him for being understanding. She was also aware that he would not have called her if it was not for Solomon and, probably, Michael. 

Everything and everyone in this place reminded her of him. Wherever she looked, whoever she called, wherever she went, her thoughts were wandering back to him.

She could use some time away. 

She needed some time away, so she packed her bag, grabbing only necessary stuff with her, and later in the morning, she left her apartment. She never thought she would be going back to the place she had left with such pain in her heart, but that was exactly what she was doing at that moment.

She was going home, but not only because she needed a change.

Apparently, to start another chapter, she had to finish the one she had left open a long time ago.


	20. Reckless Behaviour

When Amy left her bedroom the next morning, Daniel was still asleep. Curled up on her couch and covered with a soft, grey blanket, he looked so peaceful. Amy could not help but stop for a moment to watch him with a gentle smile on her face. She shouldn’t have felt that way towards him, but even if she would never say that out loud, she missed being around someone. She missed waking up and seeing someone by her side or in the other room. For years, it has been just her and the walls around.

She carefully walked to the kitchen, trying her hardest to make breakfast for them without waking up Dan. Her original plan included making eggs and bacon, but after almost dropping the pan on the floor, she changed it to peanut butter jelly sandwiches. Not that she had a choice when there was nothing more in the fridge. She definitely should plan her groceries better, or at least, make them more often than once a week. 

Once she was done with preparing sandwiches, she made them both some coffee and poured it into two white mugs, then carried them to the wooden coffee table by the couch. She placed them down carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible, but Daniel was already awake. 

“When you offered me to stay the night, you didn’t say a thing about staying for breakfast,” he said, his voice raspy and still sleepy. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning,” she responded softly, now placing plates with sandwiches for them. “Think of it as... A bonus. Hope you don’t mind peanut butter jelly?”

“Mind? I love peanut butter jelly.” Daniel sat up and when Amy joined him on the couch, he reached for a sandwich. “I can’t remember the last time someone made me breakfast,” he confessed, looking at the blonde next to him.

“And I can’t remember the last time I had a chance to eat breakfast with someone,” she returned, then sent him a smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did. Your couch is pretty comfortable, you know? It’s a shame you didn’t try it out with me,” Daniel teased, and Amy blushed a bit, looking down at her thighs. “I’m just messing with you, okay? Don’t take my words seriously. You’re great and I can’t be more grateful you let me stay here,” he hurried with an explanation, “even if I don’t really understand why you wanted a stranger at your place.”

“I didn’t want you to be alone after what happened or did something stupid out of anger,” Amy said and her eyes returned to him. “It seemed to be the right thing to do.”

She quickly reached for a sandwich and took a bite to stop her from talking too much. Out of a sudden, she felt exposed - being around Daniel was so comfortable for her, she was afraid she would accidentally cross the boundaries she had set and say too much. From her experience, saying too much to someone she just met was never a good choice.

But it seemed to be different now.

She could not explain why; she just felt safe in his presence. Safe enough to trust him and to open in front of him, and it was terrifying for someone who always needed much time to trust. She was willing to let him in just like that. 

It could not be real. 

She was not allowed to feel this way, or at least she did not want to feel this way; vulnerable.

“Thank you for everything,” Daniel said once he finished eating his sandwich. He reached out for the mug and took a sip of black as pitch coffee while Amy watched him with her blue eyes. 

“It’s nothing,” she replied quietly. “I’m glad I could help when you needed it.”

“Your eyes are beautiful,” he pointed after a long while. “I’m aware you probably hear that a lot…”

“You know, most blondes have blue eyes, so it’s not special.” 

“I can think only about one blonde right now,” he blurted, not bothering how cliche it might have sounded. “The one who’s sitting next to me.”

“Mister charming, aren’t you?” Amy chuckled, trying to ignore this fuzzy feeling inside her chest. 

“Can’t I just compliment you? Oh, and you make the best peanut butter jelly sandwiches,” he continued, and Amy blushed. Again. Not that no one had ever complimented her before, but this time, all these compliments sounded so genuine. “Generally, everything tastes better when someone else does it for you.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” she responded. “I’m glad you like them. I’m glad you… It's silly, but I’m truly glad you’re eating them with me. Nice change to have someone to talk to in the morning or just... To drink coffee with.”

“Doesn't my sister drop by often? She’s a terrible cook,” Daniel moved closer to Amy and leaned down as if he wanted to tell her a secret. “The only thing she can cook is spaghetti. Don’t tell her I told you,” he winked at her. Amy shook her head slowly, smiling widely at him.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” 

“You could share one with me, too. I mean, a secret for a secret, or not even a secret,” Daniel chuckled, feeling he complicated what he meant too much. “Just tell me something about you.” 

“What would you like to know?”

“Are you seeing someone?” 

Amy looked at him suspiciously. “Is that really what you want to know?” Daniel nodded as confirmation. “No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, and for a few seconds, he had been staring at the sandwich Amy was holding in her hand. “Is that your hair?” 

“Where?” Amy asked, confused. She was taking a closer look at it when Dan swatted the sandwich from the other side, splashing the peanut butter jelly all over her mouth. “Dan!” she squealed and the man burst out laughing. “What the hell?!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he managed to say, choking on his laugh. “I wasn’t planning on splashing it so much. Wait, let me help.” He took a sandwich from her and put it back on the plate. Then, he returned to her and using the moment of her confusion, he gently pressed his lips against hers. 

Amy’s heart skipped a beat, and at first, she wanted to pull away, but she quickly changed her mind. She let herself enjoy this  _ very  _ sweet and gentle kiss. It was so easy to lose control because she wanted that kiss so much.

However, after a short, blissful moment, it hit her.

What she was doing was very wrong, and she should not have let that happen.

“I’m so sorry, I—we can’t do that, Dan,” she murmured when she pulled away from him as if she got burnt. 

“Why?” he asked, caught off guard.

“You’re my best friend’s brother, that’s why,” she fired back. “Would you be happy if Phoebe hooked up with your best friend without you knowing a thing?”

“If I knew she was happy and safe with him then yes, I would be happy,” he replied without hesitation. “You’re so easy to like, you know? I barely know you, but you give me... I don’t even know how to describe it. Maybe I… Ah, doesn’t matter.”

“No, tell me. It does matter,” she opposed, curious what he had wanted to say.

“I seriously can’t remember the last time someone looked at me the way you did. You weren’t judging me, blaming me, you just… Talked to me, and made me feel as if I was worth something… But maybe I was delusional. Maybe you did it all, because of Phoebe, but I...”

“No, it’s not that,” she told him. “I… I just want to be fair with your sister. I don’t want things to get awkward…”

“They won’t get awkward,” he told her. “Why would they? I mean… If you want this, why would she bother?”

“And why are you bothered when she’s with Michael?” she replied with a question but did not expect an answer. 

However, Daniel was thinking for a moment, searching for one. “I’m afraid he’s gonna keep hurting her. I know my sister, I know how fragile she is.” 

“Is that the only reason?” Amy got up and walked to the kitchen to grab a piece of paper towel from the kitchen counter. She wiped her face then handed another piece to Dan. “Anyone can hurt her, so I don’t know why you’re so hostile just towards Michael.”

“Well, I… I think I’m generally jealous of her,” he admitted, “not in a bad way, I… I remember times when I was her hero. You know, big brother, best friend and so on. We were really close and now… She can barely look at me and I have to watch her seeking support from other men while I should be the first one to protect her.”

“Dan, she’s not just seeking support or protection,” the woman said, returning to the couch and taking a seat by his side. “She’s seeking more than that, and you can’t give her this  _ more _ .” 

“I know… I know, but a part of me can’t accept it,” he sighed. “What do you think of this douche?”

“Michael? I wish I could say I like him. He’s… I wasn’t in favour of this relationship, too. I care about Phoebe, I think she's an amazing person who deserves the world. I tried to tell her he’s no good for her, but she wasn’t listening and… I know how much she likes him, and surprisingly, he seems to like her, too. I thought they were doing fine, you know? And then, I saw her all broken… I guess that’s why I was so pissed when I saw him yesterday. I don’t know what happened, Phoebe didn’t want to tell me, brushing me off every time, but I know, whatever happened, it must hurt them both… Maybe they just fought and needed to cool down? It happens in relationships.”

“But the thing is… When I saw Michael yesterday I didn’t know who I was more pissed at. Him for acting as if nothing happened or Phoebe for not telling me what happened?” she asked rhetorically. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been pissed at any of them. It’s not my business…”

“And maybe I shouldn’t have punched him,” Daniel pointed. “Ah, now that I think of it, I shouldn’t have done many things. Kissing you included.”

“Why?” She sent him a reassuring smile. “I don’t think it was a mistake, but if you think differently...”

“I don’t.”

“I just want to be honest with Phoebe and I want her to know about it. Whatever it was, is or will be, I guess I should tell her and see what she thinks of it.”

Just as she finished speaking and the silence filled up the room, she got a text message. 

“Speaking of the devil,” she stated once she pulled her phone out of the pocket of her sweat pants. Her eyes scanned the screen as she read the message out loud. “ _ I’m leaving the city for a few days. I’m just letting you know, so you wouldn’t worry. I’ll talk to you when I’m back. _ ”

Amy looked up at Daniel, who was still processing the message his sister had sent to her friend. After a minute or so, he asked:

“Where on Earth is she going?”

* * *

Home sweet home, Phoebe thought as she arrived in Sandy Shores and was walking inside her family house. She stepped through the threshold, pulling a suitcase behind her and thanking Daniel for not changing the locks throughout the years.

She placed her suitcase by the wall in the hall and took a few steps towards the living room. 

Nothing had changed at all. 

This house looked exactly the same as she remembered. It was a one-floor house with a garage in the back, three bedrooms, a living room connected with a kitchen and a bathroom. The decor of each room was rather modest and there was no main theme, but the sight of it reminded Phoebe of the old days when her parents were alive, she and Dan were much younger and everything was so simple. 

Phoebe stroked the material of the brown, leathered couch as she walked by it, directing her steps towards her bedroom that was in the corner, in between her parents and Daniel’s bedroom. 

She opened the doors gently, quickly realising her room had not changed a bit, too. She doubted anyone moved a thing as everything was in its place. The double bed with pink cushions was placed in front of a big closet and right next to the bed, there was a desk with a PC screen and a few medical books under it. The walls were painted beige and the final touch was grey, fluffy carpet on the light, wooden floor. If there was one thing Phoebe liked about this house, it was this wooden floor that seemed to match every furniture in it. 

Using the last of her strength, she returned for her suitcase and moved it to her bedroom. Then, she fell on the bed, tired and weak as she felt the fever rising. 

She managed to cover herself with a quilt, but it did not help much - even though her forehead was burning hot, she was trembling from a cold that spread through her whole body. 

She did not know how long she had been trembling, but when she eventually felt some warmth, her eyes closed and she fell asleep.

* * *

Hours felt like minutes, and when she woke up, she had no clue what time it was. She felt as if she was hit by a train; each muscle in her body hurt and her temples were painfully throbbing. She touched her forehead and it was not as burnt as it had been before, but she knew she could use some more painkillers. 

She got up from the bed, and making unsteady steps, she walked to the living room where all the lights were on. She did not recall turning them on, so immediately, she was alarmed.

“Phoebe.” Of course, she was not the one to turn them on. It was someone else, Daniel, to be precise. Who else could it be? “You’re literally the last person I expected to see here, but I can’t express how happy I am to see you.”

Phoebe tilted his head to the side and once she gathered some strength, she asked: “What are you doing here, Dan?”

“I’m actually living here. I came back home after mom had passed away,” the man explained, putting the glass, he was holding in his hand, down. “Someone has to look after this place, right?” 

“Yeah, right,” she agreed, feeling too weak to argue with him. “I won’t be staying long, don’t worry. I needed a change of scenery…” she coughed, covering her mouth and when she sneezed, a few drops of blood fell on her right hand. “Damn it…”

“You’re very sick,” Daniel pointed, immediately handing Phoebe a tissue. “What’s wrong Phoebe?”

“It’s just a cold.” She did not want to explain how bad she felt to him.

“Your nose is always bleeding when you’re very sick or tired. I’ve known you forever, you can’t fool me,” he returned and wanted to take a step towards her, but she backed off. “Hey, I won’t hurt you… I’m so sorry, Phoebe. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done, but I swear, I won’t do anything bad to you never again.” He raised his hands in surrender. “I know… I know I’m not the perfect brother, but who do we have if not each other? I love you, Phoebe. You’re my little sister, and…”

“Stop it, Dan.” She shook her head. “I’m not your  _ little _ sister anymore. I stopped being your  _ little  _ sister years ago, and I don’t want to have this conversation right now… After so long… After everything that happened… I don’t think it’s the best moment for this conversation, I… Just let me stay here for a few days and then, I’ll leave.”

“You can stay here as long as you want, Phoebe,” he told her. “It’s your home.”

“I’m gonna go take some meds and go back to the bed,” Phoebe stated, pretending she did not hear what Dan had said to her. She walked by him and began searching for some painkillers on the kitchen shelf when someone knocked on the doors. “Is there anything that is not expired?” 

“I’ll go and see who’s that,” Daniel said to himself because his sister was not paying attention, anyway. 

It did not go as he planned. Truth to be told, he did not plan it at all, because he did not think Phoebe would return here, to Sandy Shores. From all the places she could pick, it was the least likely choice. 

The last twenty-four hours were hard for Daniel, starting from this unfortunate night at Vanilla and ending at meeting his sister back at their parent’s house. 

One big roller coaster.

“Hey.” He heard as he opened the doors and froze, seeing one and only Michael de Santa at his doorstep. 

“Hey?” Daniel repeated, blinking a few times to make sure he was not delusional. “What the fuck are you doing here? Want to finish what we started yesterday? Who told you… Goddamn Trevor,” he automatically responded to one of the questions he wanted to ask. 

“Bingo. You got the last one correct,” Michael replied casually. “I want to talk to you, douche, not start a fight.”

"What could you possibly want to talk about?”

Michael took a deep breath and used all his inner peace to remain calm. 

“I don’t know what Amy told you, but I truly care about your sister,” he started, feeling embarrassed he had to explain it all to Daniel. “She and I argued, yes, but it didn’t change the way I feel about her and I would never hurt or use her on purpose—What I mean is that I want the best for her, and…”

“Why wouldn’t you disappear from her life then? Don’t you think that would be the best for her?”

“Maybe, but I need to hear it from her, not you.” 

Again, Daniel found it hard to find words to reply. He eyed Michael, wondering what Phoebe saw in him that was so hard to resist. He was good looking, even with a slightly black eye, but he was not the only man who looked good in a suit. What else did he have to offer? Money? He knew Phoebe wouldn’t have fallen for that. Then what was it?

“Let me know when you’re done with checking me out,” Michael said, and Daniel quickly stopped staring. “Is that Phoebe’s phone?” he asked, noticing a phone on the sideboard by the door when the other man moved to the side. He wouldn’t have paid attention if it wasn’t for its screen and this photo, the only one Phoebe had taken of them when they were out on a walk as the wallpaper. 

Daniel looked at the phone, confused, as he had not seen it earlier. “I guess. It has to be hers, god, I wouldn’t set a photo of you two as wallpaper.” 

“Is she here?” Michael saw a spark of hope for him. The fact she had their photo as her phone wallpaper had to mean something. There was a chance it meant she did not hate him as much as he thought she would. 

“She’s here, detective, but I doubt she wants to talk to you.” Daniel stepped into Michael’s way. “You’re not going anywhere. I mean it. She’s feeling bad, okay? I don’t want her to feel worse—”

“ _ Bad _ ? What do you mean by _ bad _ ?” Michael was not planning on leaving any time soon, especially when he knew Phoebe was not feeling well. 

“She's sick,” Daniel replied harshly. “High fever and generally, she’s weak, but as always, she pretends she’s fine.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed she does that.” 

_Dan, she’s not just seeking support or protection. _S_ he’s seeking more than that, and you can’t give her this more._

Amy’s words rang in Daniel’s head, and at the same time, he began wondering whether it was Michael who was capable of giving his sister this mysterious  _ more _ . If he was not important to her, no matter what had happened between them, she would not have their photo set as wallpaper… Or maybe, she simply forgot to change it.  _ Either way, this goddamn screen could turn off already. _

“I just want to talk to her,” Michael said, hoping he would convince Daniel he meant no harm. “Just talk.”

“Try your luck another time,” Daniel responded, and that was when something weird happened. With the corner of his eye, he noticed someone running towards them. This, someone, turned out to be Trevor, and it would not be a surprise, he lived nearby after all, but his concerned face could only mean trouble. “What the—”

“Both of you inside, now,” Trevor hissed, storming inside the house and pulling Michael with him. Using the confusion of both men, Trevor locked the doors then leaned against them, breathing heavily. His right forearm and hand were bleeding, but he did not seem to care about it much. “What? You two didn’t want to help, so I had to take care of things on my own. I admit I got a little bit carried away…”

“A little bit?” Michael spoke up first, clearly disturbed. “You’re bleeding! For god’s sake, Trevor! What did you do?”

“The less you know the better you sleep. The only thing you two might need to know is that we might need to stay here for a few days, just to let things calm down. Three or four days, not too long.”

“And what do we have to do with your business?” Daniel asked, feeling it was his turn to speak. “You have a problem, you’re being chased, not us.”

“You’re right,” Trevor nodded, “but unfortunately, you two are being associated with me and I don’t want anyone to get hurt. Well, us three, at least.” 

Michael and Daniel looked at each other as they thought about the same thing, at the same time. They were not just in two, but Trevor did not know that. He did not know he was risking the lives of not two, but three people and one of them was completely innocent. 

“Don’t make such concerned faces, we’re gonna be fine,” Trevor continued, seeing both of their faces getting pale. “We just gotta lay low for a while and…”

“The problem is we’re not here just in three! Phoebe’s here, too, but you don't care, right?” Michael hissed, could not hide his anger anymore. “You are an idiot, Trevor! A reckless idiot!"

Daniel was surprised to see Michael react this way. He did not expect him to react at all, not mentioning bringing Phoebe up. For his whole life he had been thinking, he was the only one who put his sister before him, but at that particular moment, he realised he could have been wrong. 

And that was also the moment when he looked at Michael from a completely different perspective; the one he had thought he would never look at him from.


End file.
